He had no stories
to tell, no reason to speak:
what he was was not.
It did not matter.
All those years simply vanished
like day into dusk.
The day’s regrets rose,
a wealth of embarrassments,
to trouble his nights.
His sense of purpose
(marginally important)
Spun away like stars.
Until there was nothing left,
but blank pages to be read.
(July 2, 2023)
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