Wandering Soul

I never wanted
to tell you those things.
Whether your dancing eyes
knew is beside the point –
Delicate fingers
wrenched open hidden chest.

Still, those silent months
have passed, and only
sheets of smoke remain.
Shade from the sun
as it burns pictures
from rails to my view.

I never wanted
to tell you those things.
You became, and then took,
part of my wandering soul.
Now I journey, in search
of my open void.

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