Omitted
Omission.
That’s the word that comes to mind
after our barren silence.
Sigh.
—I love you
I can’t help but confess it
Sigh.
—I love you
it only feels right to stress it.
Up there you are, cradled near the Galilean summits.
Up there you are,
still unwitting of the quiet decay within me.
admission is absolution
and absolution I seek
thus—
I surrender
I love you, still.
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