The Bullet of Emergence: Poetry

Besieged by
ideas draped 
in drag,
She thought
of the love 
she'd lost
~
He'd departed
from her,
saying that she
was not what
he needed
~
The butterflies
had swarmed 
in her belly,
letting her know
that pain was just
seconds away
~
She wished then
that he'd existed only
in the realm of her
imagination;
An unreal friend
does not cause
such despair
upon parting
~
The piano swelled
in sympathy,
the sound rolling
over her like
a saint weeping
~
Then the words
pooled underneath
her head,
a wound from
the bullet of 
emergence
~
"These endings,
always endings.
O Mother of God,
Why?"
she lamented
~
The with a resolute
nod, she said to the air:
"It was poetry
to love you,
to be known 
in an embrace 
so sacred
that I wept with joy
at your beauty."
~
Meanwhile,
echoes ran rampant
down the empty
corridors of her heart
where she used 
to belong.

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