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It happened again,

As your name was hissed.
The whistling wind reminded,
How much of you I missed.

A tear heavy of guilt fell slowly,
Its leashes I pulled before one eyed.
All the hefty dreams,
Razed. Gone to dust, I realised.

Different questions, everyone,
Asked me of you.
Alas! I could forget, but not
Even if I wanted to.

Until they get to know,
All of them speak without pause,
My version of you,
UN-mindful of the hurt they cause.

Regret so strong,
I hoped it could be we,
But you left so hastily,
Forever back, you could not see.

I stoop over the mud pile,
That symbolic trance that separates you,
From existing. Crazy should you call me,
But reach out to me, would you?


© 2020 Osman Ghazi

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