it’s a sunday morning –

up way too early,

but that’s par for the literary juices

when the soul is devoid

of that aura

often all so surrounding

in the visuals of my-

leaving like archway sensual expressions

with heavens down home girl

to soothe mutual traumatic experiences

running around in our spirits

to give us a shot at a life 

in the reformations of heart re-building.

but here i am –

gonna do the usual –

read myself into writing

and think lots of country

making a modern day melody,

wanna make it

like summer breezes

on the only couch that matters

that’s been way tough to get to,

to enjoy the moment

in the thing we do,

for it seems

the void grows

with every passing moment

without you on the outside

to make my skin tingle in your reality.

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