Hairs on my sheet


Every past passes to become sweet or bitter nothingness  

No one has kept pain to watch any further, how yesterday crawled or ran away save for the watcher 

Memories supposedly fade into the depths of timely oblivion

Only there is a remembrance of benevolence beyond malevolence; prints are left indelible on the souls and lives that our hands of love come across 

But truly we are blinded to the pieces of us that history leaves behind, delible or indelible, pieces of us remain 

I found hairs on my sheet, a piece of one history left behind for curiosity in posterity defiantly 

 The Pieces we leave behind make for the history as we dust off these feet racing inevitably to closed graves and open heavens

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