Trude

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Truthfully, hurt has
a charming tone.
It would take my heart
to dance
and leave it heaving.

Now I do wish
running were an
intimate act.

_ To disfigure illusions
so thoroughly…

I tended my first broken
exuberance,
Found the future stood
pensive,
till I proclaimed my heart
outrun.

I made a vow then,
to take the name of one
I could hurt evasively.

_I learned I could be weak
in the face of my own voice.

Inconsolably, I picked
the habit of pacing
through my cries…
till they reached a lulling hum.

Where does it end?
My dress has been
shedding petals
Not long now, I’ll be naked.

Published by Sia Morweng

I'm Sia, and you're my new friend.

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