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Monday, September 26, 2011


Longing is like rubber bands and
tight fisted hands grabbing my sleeves,
a small voice whispering, "Please
come back, I want you now, don't leave!"
Longing is a stretchy sort of feeling,
like taffy or laughing to keep yourself
from screaming at the ceiling.
It can be quiet, too,
creeping up behind you like a minute,
or a glass you go to drink from
only to discover that there's nothing in it.
Longing is the broken promise
of what tomorrow was supposed to bring,
and it is a mostly futile thing.

This poem has gone through so many mutations... I'm just kind of surprised that I found it.

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