empathy.

i read it
again,
and i felt
her pain.
i could feel
the grief
and longing
for finality.

rising up
through
my lungs
and pressing
hard to crack
my ribs.
a deep wound
still weeping.

it doesn’t die.
“i wouldn’t
leave a note,
but i would
leave this…”
i would still
walk
and fall.

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