The Hole

I see your shirt,

I see you in it, 

Then back out of it again.


Every night I end up in the same place,

At the bottom of the hole that you dug for me.

But you dug it so well, with a smile on your face, and love in your eyes.

I couldn't even see the dirt rise above me.


I cry there.

I live there.

I love there.


Every night I am there, 

But tonight is different.

Your shirt caught on fire, I'm digging some steps.

I am growing stronger.

This poem is about: 


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