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The stealer of dreams,
The thief of hope,
And the merciless pilferer of truth
Have stolen from
Years upon countless years. Decades of minutes
Stacked upon memories I never had with
Someone who could have loved me back
Someone who's mere touch had the electricity to arch my back
Someone who arms could spread east to west beyond a cartographers dreams
Someone who's love bursts and permeates through all the seams.
The stealer of dreams.
Flying high on could haves and would haves and maybes
Past lives and wrinkled times now synching
Womb empty with grown child no longer a baby.
The fool who believed it all.
The constant reassurance in slick talks under hushed acoustic walls
And cheap mattress springs, wooed by promises
Of mere possibilities.
We could of had it all.
The thief of hope.
We could have redefined bliss. Etched it in Oxford dictionaries
scribe in pencils, visualize and mime in Pictionary
Become the envy of the town where grass is St. Augustine
Mowed forever plush like silk, and walked barefoot to white picket fence, pristine.
The lover who believed in love. Rose colored glasses
Buttery petals held no thorn. A fragrance held to the world
A scent probably now defined as pheromones
Attraction mutually exclusive as brain is left behind for a stepping stone.
The merciless pilferer of truth.
Dare I ask honesty in place of spoken words leaving the lips
Or is it another that has caught your eye swaying her hips?
May I demand the actuality instead of leaving out details
Or does the Pinocchio within you not grow when authenticity prevails?
Have taken from me.
Stolen from me.
Kept from me,
All those years and moments I cannot get back.

I am getting my happy back.



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