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What I wish I would have known so long ago…

Lost.

Love loss,
A hole in nothing–
Insubstantial
but enough
For me to fall
Through
to…

Nothing.

Dwelling on infinite insubstantials,
That’s what this is.
Smoke pondering other smoke.

But why
Does it feel
So very fucking real?

Like a slap,
Like a rough pull.
Same sensoryslam,
I suppose.

But why
Does it feel
So very fucking real?

The feel
Plays like it’s real.
The space between
Is really so vast
You have no idea,
No conception.

Dwelling on infinite insubstantials,
That’s what this is.
Smoke pondering other smoke.

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