My heart flies late at night,
always starting in the past
in what could have been,
should have been,
it passes through the moments
of bliss and beauty and turns
at reality;
it steps through the moments
you were mine and the many more
I wished you were,
it flies amongst the pieces,
tears of what was us
and it stands brave because
the sun awakes and makes it way
to a new day
(and there is always
a new day)

Copyright Hiraeth 2015


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