Friday, June 5, 2009

Home


The lights are on, the chimney smokes, there is a soft stone path leading to the door. One looks around this familiar space a question hanging from their face. I am home but I am alone and the pain seems only endless. Where there was light and hope and dreams rests only the footstep of the being, the one that took it from my heart, without permission, without permission stole it from my heart. The lights are on, the chimney weeps, there is a hard stone path beneath my feet.

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