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in the paradise of fault
the image is full of shadows
and ghosts like a negative
repeater shot

how I long for the brightness
and everyone says I have to
and If I stay an outsider
in the quiet at the edge
where I can watch the stars

point your finger but theres space
now and I dont feel the bruise
on my chest

I still look up and let the snow fall
on my closed eyes
I can still reach that beauty
in a breath

im all choked up about it now
the confusion of love
and pain
and imperfections

how I turned away the
ordinary whom would
have adored me
and accepted those
whose scars I cannot
turn away from
the beautiful sucession
of loss

every word a lash
across my back
a cut across my heart

making it look easy
i accept so much
from all

love is a traitor
love is a guise

and how it slips
away like a ghost
in the garden

Editing stage: 


poems about validity of
accepting positions
and perspectives
about asking
about giving
and about making
a decision to take
a risk and leave

sometimes getting
kicked in the ribs
is comfortable
and thats dangerous

author comment

Oh dearest Steven you take away our breath
like snowflakes floating through your mind
with our eyes and ears and senses keened;

we dream the place where you are
and know the troubled doormat,
sense the discomfort,
and understand

that we are the more fortunate
who see life otherwise,
but what a wonderful poem
you make of your thought here,
as usual

you are a grand master of the word.
I place on your head my hand
and try to give you what you lack.
Only Ann.

I got out and was exalted!

P.S. One spelling mistake but that doesn't spoil the poem:-
"sucession" succession.
"i" I.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

Straight from your pen to my heart, Steven!


Had I continued reading your words all these long months, I might have held on to my own.

~ Ronda

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