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I am not in a rush

A rush to get home

To sit there alone

Wishing I was sharing this place.

Instead,

It’s only empty space.

There’s a dent in the cushion.

Where you once sat.

Did I dream that?

A cold spot on the bed.

Nowhere warm,

To lay my head.

Instead,

My thoughts flip over.

They torment the slow times.

Drag me to dark places

And deep spaces.

Where I fight

and I claw.

To catch my breath

To go to what’s next.

And pray

Pray that I can move on.

I pray for peace

And for happiness.

I pray this for me

But honestly

I mostly pray it for you

And for all that you do.

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Shalom

~Lynn

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