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Poem: Harpoon


How untimely dark my life will get, so soon:
There will be no sun, there will be no moon,
just the sting of the hardest, sharpest harpoon
as it slices me open again – and once more.
Leaves me breathless, cut up, old, shriveled and sore
from the slashes of pain I had learned to adore.

I figured it peaceful – I could live with this pain
you’ve caused me, induced, once more and again.
Now I close my kind eyelids, hope, for the last time –
it was beauty all over, I admit, but it wasn’t humane
how you kept me here waiting, wishing, dreaming you’re mine.
And I’ve held you high: an angel, another being. Sublime!

Tell me, then, if I would find you one day,
could you look at me like that and still walk away?
I’m starting to think this is just one twisted game
and that in your mind I’m but someone to judge;
see failure yet fail to see – I love you so much
that dear and tender I still wait for your touch.