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Image Credits: Google Images

I leaned against the wall
Tried to hear what it said
Its silence, hard as lead
Making all my spirits fall

I stared at the ceiling
Knowing not what to do
Your games of peekaboo
Playing at my feeling

I tried to smell the air
For traces of your scent
To me, no clue it lent
I thought this wasn’t fair

I touched the floor ‘neath me
Hoped for your footsteps near
These tiles evoked a fear
And I wished I could flee

I stood by French windows
Tasted the finest scape
And let my thoughts escape
To the weeping willows

I let my senses drain
For sixth to run this show
And now I simply know
That hurt shall not remain

This torch lit in my core
I let its embers burn
A click and then a turn
And you walk in through that door


**Posted for Thursday Poets’ Rally – Week 28, hosted graciously by Jingle**

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