Pages Of A Woman's Soul
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Somber morning awakening
in tones of winter gray
reflect the bitter wasteland
that feels like all of my tomorrows

Bleak and benumbed
clouds bent low across the horizon
push into the passionless recesses
of the heart, the chill seeping down deep

The sky fills
with the weight of impending snowfall
my soul in turn
with the weight of melancholia

And as the heavens release
their icy burden onto the frigid sod
what's left of my psyche
falls cold as a marble tomb

Your lies become my epitaph

(With a dedication to those betrayed by one they loved)

K.Tate Jacoby
copyright January 13, 2010

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