Wednesday, April 3, 2013

First I Was Angry, and Then I Was Hungry

I thought I would feel empty when you left me,
But first I was angry, and then I was hungry,
Which sure sounds like myself in my entirety.

There were no torrents of a downpour when you left me,
Not even a drop while I was in the library.

The skies stayed intact, and held their height, too.
The clouds parted a little, enough to see the moon,
and I known you'd someday leave me, though what could I do?
What hurt most, is why gloat without you?

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