One of us should have a good life at least
and it will not be me, with nothing left to strive
but this despised existence in grey shadow
and the ragged dullness of apathy
incipient gloom and the caress of thorns
painted in shades of ashen sorrow
as I sink
no more to rise to surface breath
renunciation of being and joy in every heartbeat thud

Such a simple cure could be found if you
should but find your heart to provide the antidote
to this ravening distress of spirit and drear eye
instead, I am the sacrifice on which you build your life
a trifling thing of no great import or loss
as easily forgot as a word from a stranger
as I fall
no more to fly on light wings
repudiation of all sense of life and delight

Becoming the empty space inside, where
used to reside the soul you took in an offering to yourself
dry as ancient tinder in forgotten ruins
awaiting only the spark you could bring
forever takes a long time to come and go
in austere reminders of love-lit bliss
as I fail
to find determinant optimism
your abandoned dreams still haunt my vision

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