August 18, 2010
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You know the sight of the beach
right after a storm?
Tide grabbing at the shore,
shells spread out perfectly

That’s my heart.
It’s many broken, battered pieces—
scattered, at risk of being lost

…but it’s not the tide.
It’s a vacuum cleaner.
Swooping around,
sucking it all up and away…
into the cavernous,
black abyss of you.

You took this.
You broke this.
It’s all on you—
and your “glue”—
trying to “fix” things.

It just won’t register:

like the sun hitting the water…
the sun has set on us.

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