One foot tracing the path of the other
Which passed before it, and stepped carefully
Onto the soft, blossom-littered forest floor,
I walk, half in a dream through the glade
With the beams of light
That slip between twisted branches above my head
Shining on my pale skin.
The truth is that I have never felt so alone
But I am not seeking companionship:
Not this time.
Sometimes, you need to allow for healing
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Fleeting as a bird, you looked at me.
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