The WalkMature

Volume seven of poetry.

things get forgotten
become placid
they're like elastic
stretching across your head
until it breaks
whether they be little things
or big
things that shouldn't matter
and should
It is difficult to accept
and let go.
A little thing
that should not take up space
feels like the apocalypse
It's hard to say goodbye,
to see less and less
of the ones you once knew
time and time again
it's never left alone
they have said goodbye,
something you will have to do.

The End

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