the feeling of joy

mystified by early mornings,
i rise
to the vast lonely air
visiting my room that
tickles my ear,
with her soft whispers of
“look outside”

and as i
peer out my window,
i see nothing
eyes; searching for what i had wished to see.

leaving it behind,
i run-
by my eagerness,
to find-

yet i feel her
caress my neck
asking me to try
for you,
only for you to not reply.

but yet i follow
each day,
and as the sun wishes my window pane,
i only wish for you.

i ask her,
to tell me what i
do wrong?
why you pull me outside,
only for me to be drawn
the fool?

she tells me,
“be patient,
be kind”
and i wait
only for
years to go by,
and now the wind grows impatient too.

she’s unlike me-
when she cries,
she destroys as well.

in that way
she has destroyed my will
to live.

but live i do,
for a man paralyzed,
there is little else to do.

im sorry, i could have come home to you too


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