my old bed
waited too long
to run towards you
a ghost running
my tortured sleep,
desperately running
more than my shadow,
this carefree ghost
runs the air I breathe
in the dark room,
running the length
of my bedroom.
now the bed runs errands
for my elusive dream
stopping the running pain
in my clogged heart
sadly, I knew,
the hurt runs deep
on my pillows
as the lure of your smell
runs in my nose,
that faded every hour
running away daily
painfully with time.
how many more days
would run like this
as minutes moved in circles,
as the door shut itself
your handsome face
running through empty spaces
joining the funeral of my song.
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Author Notes
I tried to use the word "run" in as many ways as possible. Thanks, Google, for the picture.
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