Actuality and Angst #9

The imagery of a woman
Sitting in the middle of an ocean,
Sifting through sands of Sahara,
And coughing out icicles
From the pits of her flaming heart
Is as redundant as the nights
I spend contemplating the burden
Of the absence I have taken on my shoulders,
And they are slowly chipping,
Their edges piercing through the
Shimmering blanket of hope and horror
That I sleep with
Night after night.

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