A Leaf Falls?

It was a flaw in my creation,

The heel of Achilles in my strong decoration,

A stain of lonesome in my personality,

A condemnation I perpetually hide

and which swallows the joy in me

on the daily:


The leaf hasn’t fallen yet,

but it’s dried, crusty,

weak, and barely clinging to her mother’s branch.

The loneliness hits me as soon as you leave;

Don’t leave.

Don’t make the leaf in me


get swept

by the wind,

and fade away

the way your voice would

the next time

you call.


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