Consistent always is this feeling that lingers
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for the devoted one.
Nothing other than a cupful of loneliness
to account for it.
Empty words reward me with what?
Iíve still no lover.
Longing and grief feed off the other
making tragedy reign without possibilities
of being yours.
Hope has faded into a flask of glitter,
once a heap of shiny dust,
now reduced to a trace of sparkles.
Small insignificant trails on my hands and face
plaster a shattered smile of pretend,
and once again, no reward for me.
I am on a journey. Looking for Me. Everyday I get a little closer. The more time goes by the more I realize I'm always changing. This journey could take forever... Renae L. Soler