Risks, maybe thrilling.

Hope, can be torturous.

Damaged, somehow clearer.

Fear, an uncanny protector.

Time, a healer and a killer.

Love, sometimes a curse.

Truth, may also be imperfect.

Restrictions, bizarrely sexy.

Failure, in a certain way a restart.

Burning bridges, can be kind.

And not getting the love of my life,

Sometimes it’s fine.

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You are going west again,

Lights have started dimming again.



Chirps are getting quieter,

Winds are getting cooler.



Swans are returning home,

Ripples are now getting calm.



Just like yesterday,

Just like tomorrow,don’t go.



Sun, why don’t you listen?

Help me freeze this moment.

So please stay.





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Perishing Library

One day, soon someday,

The phantom pain of the amputee,

Will slip from memory’s grip.

Dreams with voices would no longer cut adrift,

No more will it bewail the loss.

But except every once in a long time,

When a stranger leans in as lovingly,

It would flood again,

Gasping for the next breath,

Taking to vague restlessness,

But still in relief,

To have saved the book of memory,

From that perishing library.






Copyright: Word Hunter

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