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Rusted Hinges
I am haunted,
My soul,
My heart,
They creek, as black cats paw at doors with rusted hinges.
There are spider webs being weaved in my brain, it hasn't been much use to me lately, not with you around.
My heart does all the thinking, that's why I hurt. I hurt because my own heart, the very organ that's supposed to be mine, is taken over by demons and ghosts of a lover who no longer stop by the apartment to ask me how my new art project is going.
I am a walking travesty, I am empty and shallow Not a penny has been invested in my soul, you see I lost it, along with the keys to your apartment. I misplace things often, sometimes I find them in the strangest places; like that time I lost our ring, but I awoke to the very sight of the sterling sliver glistening in the sun that was creeping through the shades.
Somethings never return though, I've learned to make due with the little that's left in this run down apartment.
I'll make due,
even if my corpse has to rot in this apartment,
I am not losing the only home I was welcomed into.
I've lost you,
I've lost myself,
But I haven't lost my ability to love your haunting ghost wholeheartedly
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