Tinman

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Tinman

Looking at this from another angle;

My head hanging off the seat

While lying on my couch,

Heels and toes upon the wall

I noted the rug burns on my feet.

 

Now they’re just wee scars,

Each a permanent epiphany.

Corpus meum loquentem

I understand it now,

They’re like my tattoo diary.

 

I thought you were fulfilling me;

The void involved was never just mine.

You were far from home and lonely.

We were replenishing each other

In that brief snapshot of time.

 

You were genuinely vulnerable

Yet played it off like game.

I pretended we had a foundation

Not a temporary respite,

And I’ve only myself to blame.

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