When you tell me you're leaving,
Your words are the blade
Of a shining sword
Cutting through the darkness,
They are a linguistic sting
That hurts deeply.
When you tell me that you are leaving,
Your words are a sharp edge
That truncates my hopes,
Wounded by reality,
They are withered seeds sown
In the fertile soil of my heart.
When you tell me that you are leaving,
Your words are a scorpion
Of burning punctures
That kill my truth,
They are the needle of a clock
That keeps time
Suspended without gravity.
When you tell me that you are leaving,
The contained reserve
Of the seas of my illusion
Leaves my entire body
As a huge waterfall.
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