Overrun

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It's me again. I've felt you less enthused about things of this sort. I'm nothing short of the hurricane you never asked for but this is it; this is me. I never wanted your words to overflow my pitcher but I let them. I watch them lie on the floor in...

It's me again. I've felt you less enthused about things of this sort. I'm nothing short of the hurricane you never asked for but this is it; this is me. I never wanted your words to overflow my pitcher but I let them. I watch them lie on the floor in sadness and all I could do was lay down around their wilted, bitterness of a love that might never be. I ran my fingers through them, twirling their meaning around my knuckles in hopes you meant exactly what I had wished. My heart is still broken but it's not you, it never was. I was deemed responsible for this heartache long before I knew there was better, long before I knew there was you. I'd ask you how you are, what you've been doing or where you'd been but I cannot tell a lie, and with that, I do not care. I just don't understand how God has shown me a heart like yours and has yet to let me hold you. It's me again, and I'm still heartbroken for you. In the midst of the days between your words overflowing and the days of silence, I've not met a second without your presence. There are a plethora of things to mend in my soul, but I just lay here, knuckle deep in your overrun of words, hoping they mean what you say...hoping I wasn't shown your soul just to never hold your heart.

 

Alexandra L. Narron

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