Migrant Tales Literary: Abandonment

by , under Leo Honka

By Leo Honka

There’s a place by the heart,

possibly nearer to the soul,

where eyes gasp for air,  in their own pain

Amid arid and warped hills

Grass blades sagging like broken horses

on desolate plains expanding endlessly in all directions.

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Abandonment is a lonely place where I long to be.

Despite the masochism, the empty chants inside your head

rooting you on

your deepest pain and loneliest hour.

When confronted by so much adversity

you usually roll with the punches

and die in an instant.

I’m now here in this wretched and fridge-weather place

If you granted me one wish

I’d certainly ask you to cover and warm me like a blanket!

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