Losing her.

Stars.1

No words come.
For once, silence.
Every thought cancelled
over the opposite.

I long,
as if holding a breath
for three minutes.
My lungs angry.

I ache.
Influenza
saps each muscle,
my soul instead.

I see. Vast expanse
of midnight stars.
Beauty beheld,
touched not.

Sadness falls thickly,
heavy. Why can I
not touch. Why
have I looked up

at all.

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About Pitboss14

Cosmic surfer of paradoxes.
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