It all comes out in the wash

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By Loneliness is condescending

I heard what they had to say And took the time to write it down It was nothing more then what’s been said before And yet. Nothing less then what was wanted I sealed my note with a kiss Then sent it to its rest Tucking it away behind a shelf I left it for the dust and years To weave their whispers In waiting for the time For you to find and understand And make the choice I never had

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May 15, 2006 07:21lost the lonely dead

trying to be real is tough and does it all come out in the wash? ive lost socks before so i dont think so but in any case i wish i could ask you somethin about these last two

June 8, 2006 19:20Faith

I love this poem... it's amazingly real and heartfelt. Well done!