Creative Fuselage

My heart is over-beating,

My chest is breaking like a record.

A solar flare indoors—wish you could see

how I hurt for you.

Now I’m just a creative fuselage

embedded in the earth somewhere barren

and useless.

 

So I now say, so I breathe,

So I now claim, so I wish,

I can make much of what’s here and there.

 

But you already listened for far longer than you needed to hear.

 

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