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© Wendy Bardsley 2014
Your sadness
When it is because of me.
The silence of our memory.
The agony of knowing
We can never be what we want
For each other,
To provide that special love
That nobody else can give.
The search
For an answer
That is not there.
The shudder
In my heart
When it must cool its heat.
The stare of my eyes in the mirror.
Wet leaves
Lit by lamps
In late November.
Lonely nights.
Our fights.
This is pain.