Here is a poem I wrote about six or seven years ago.
————-
cobwebs
there are days when the ghost of my lover
wraps cobwebbed love around my cobwebbed heart,
and on these days,
my eyes ache for the peace of tears,
no longer do i dream of illusory
far, faraway love,
the world is real
and the key to my bliss has long been
hidden,
no lover, phantom or real
or of my own making,
can reach the weary place inside
i know i’ve tried
and more frustration
is it’s bastard child
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