Wild Horses

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Photo Credit: hdw.eweb4.com

On wild horses,
hearts ride
so to join with
bodies and masks
of who we claim to be.
You are in my hands
and running through my veins
like liquid memory, 
sizzling with anticipation
of times that won’t be spent.
Sweet music moments
and clay images 
melt and reform
into what we wanted
but could never
quite grasp.
Hooves disguised
as heartbeats
pound down my door
and I am left raw
and broken
by the reality
of your absence.

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