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
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 
"These endings,
always endings.
O Mother of God,
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."
echoes ran rampant
down the empty
corridors of her heart
where she used 
to belong.

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