Nonexistence

I used to make my words dance for you; now they won’t obey me.

I like blaming you for stealing them from me.

When, in fact, it is me who scattered them all around like meaningless pieces of a smashed mirror, once supposed to reflect the image of my soul.

But how can one reflect emptiness, nonexsistence, a painful lack of something.

Long gone are my words, as gone as you.

I tried to put them in places they didn’t belong.

Now I pay.

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7 thoughts on “Nonexistence

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