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I find myself swallowed
in the low rumble,
the way the earth seems to move
whenever you wish it
while I stand here trapped
by wisps and trails,
storm cloud cages
around a melancholy heart

I’ve started to lose track
of what’s real anymore,
my chest pounding in tune
to your rampant roar,
and these dreams try to trick
and make me believe
I know you look,
but you don’t see
And, your melody
isn’t really for me
(It isn’t, is it?)
No…
We’re just a long gone memory

Breath of Words© 4/27/17

photo by Kevin Radley