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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #902256
Subject: Crying out to a particular woman, to free me from the burying pain of divorce.
Pull me from
The dirt
For I am not
Yet dead

Slowly inching toward
My numbered breath
Yes
But faintly a heart
Still beats here

Let your fingers
Find purchase in
The emerald green
Sod of memory
To tear loose this lush
Foliage that blankets
My prison

Break away and cast
Aside the hard packed
Soil of self
Loathing
Until sweat beads brow
And muscles find
Lock

Then sever the fetid
Umbilical cord
of dysfunction that
Sustains me
And hoist me
From my earthen
Shell

Let your mouth
Breathe life gently
Into my lungs
I am ready to live
Again
© Copyright 2004 fountainman (clawsonkc at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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