In This Thrall of Attachment

Unforgiving, this attachment to you is.
My heart believes it is a place without lies.
And calls out for your heart,
thinking foolishly, prematurely, and without any proof
that some look, some smile, some touch from you
is nature’s law, and soon you will follow it.

I stare at this attachment,
presently in its thrall, but with a hope
that I will soon let it go.

I keep telling myself
that this unreasonable desire
for a word from you, only from you,
all the time from you,
will soon pass.

But like a child in a casket
resting in your unopened heart,
I see no way out of this darkness.
Without you, without the light of you.

So I write this.
To tell the world,
here lies a man,
a roadkill in a slow motion crush
that he called attachment.
Such is the sleep of the unenlightened.
Such are the deaths of the drowned.

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