April 20, 2011
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It was winter’s first breath
That took mine away.
That carved
The seemingly innocent,
Heartbreakingly simple
Of being alone
Across my half-dead heart.

If you had stayed,
I might have been able to face
The fast approaching months
Of bitterness.
But that’s what makes it bittersweet.
My only cure
Is my illness.
My only strength
Is my weakness.

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