Stagnant Oak

Empty and vast

Grueling and stalking.

Dizzying above all

and excruciating in every pain.

My head has room for only one, only me

So why can't you get out and let

My heart be free?

Oh but the memory of you is deliciously tasty

and as I'm floating on all these clouds, all hazy,

my redemption doesn't seem so bittersweet when you're all I'm 

Waiting to see.


Come back soon.

I can't see you enough.

Not when veins wither and root to trees.


I'm not an oak. 

Not stagnant, not passively observing.

I'm human, only crying and yearning for what I think that

I'm undeserving.

This poem is about: 


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