Jealousy, anger, bitterness, revenge…
How we tear ourselves apart
Pull at each aching string, tear each sinew
Without the sunrise in the morning
The quiet time in the meadow
The time to think of roses hung above the door
Spring water dancing on our fingertips
This is darkness calling
Stillness of the night, surreptitious overactive minds
Timeless, distanced from reality, jigsaw pieces of unknown absentees
Before the warmth of the duvet, the fall into the calm of imaginary life
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