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Futility of Will

by Selina Humphrey

Out of sight.
Out of mind.
Preoccupation to be blind—


Words are meaningless these days.
Aren’t they?
Unless unsuspectingly uttered.


Mutterings of rambling thoughts.
Intention can be caught,
between the lines of will and are.


Glass is clear,
not streaked with fear,
from my side.


Yet, cloudy is your vision,
despite time or the decision
to continue our connection.


You do not care?

The tattoo across my hips,
the color of my hair and lips,
say otherwise.


Place your head back on my chest
and rest.
Fighting truth sure gets exhausting.


What exactly is it costing?

A façade is futile,
when you bare your soul,
even unknowingly—

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