Sometimes I can still feel
How you once loved me
I mourn and miss it
My heart empties
I was not to be your one
Or theirs, or his or hers.
Still where I turn on this plane
The hand I hold's my own.
I chose not to begin again
I know my soul's alone.
--Diva
Thursday Short Run, Little Dry Creek
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I have not posted to my blog in forever, so here I am before Google deletes
me.
2 years ago
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