Tuesday, February 9

Alone, Again...he is not back yet....

I sit by the forlorn light of the moon,
With no one to call my own but solitude,
No stars shining upon me to guide my path,
Or to wink at me knowingly

The wind strokes my skin
And I can barely feel the touch of another’s skin.
My nostrils flare with the depth of inhalation
But I can smell no scent.

Lost, alone, abandoned
I only wish it were without reason. 

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