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What would I say today if you would be here to hear me?
Would I talk about my fears, or yours?

When I first saw you, when I first felt you, when I first said that I was fine, and it was over.

Your hands on my skin. Your silence. Mine. The lightness of space between us.
You reading my mind, me reading yours.
Me hiding my heart, you hiding yours
... the gift in between.

Last night
drop by drop I sipped the moon with every cell of my being, letting you go
where you wanted to be, safely without me (a stranger).



I didn't know this was going to happen,
I didn't know hearts can hurt, of hiding.
I tried to speak,
to smile
as I didn't know how to melt that wall.
I cried.

I wrapped my arms around my sorrow and walked away from walls, from dreams
knowing that what I don't know is not for me to know
knowing that what I feel speaks louder than a sky full of stars,
knowing that knowing won't get us out of darkness.

Dawn's light makes a two-words prayer looping around familiar windmills lose meaning,
cotton clouds float freely, like a lazy dance above green hills strewn with dead horses.

Are these lines setting me free of you, setting you free of me?
Free of the gift we've pushed under fears and shadows?


By the river peace reigns again fearleassly
and the wind plays gracefully with the sun.


 
The Sage: Have you forgotten the red rose?
Mira: The one in my mind, or in yours?