This is what has been written,
words scattered, evading capture.
We were being kids
a woman and a man in the park.
I walked towards your place,
felt fear and excitement in your touch,
eyes closed, I was blindfolded, all sensation.
Sun lit up the willow trees.
We kissed, encountered each other
through touch and conversation.
Former identities dissolved.
Now I sit alone.
I remember your voice.
The noise of birdsong overpowers me:
grief, anguish, devastation and bone-crushing pain
come up like a flood.
It wasn't your heart that exploded,
it was mine.
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