Inner feeling of value,
Worthy state denied,
Chews at my pride.

Little bit of bitter,
Fills up with the hole,
Rare paintings devalued,
Over me it rolls.

Do you remember it?
The rarity inside,
Why can’t I land?
Cursed ride, underhand.

Always on a sideline,
Hold it in, implosion,
Desire for top billing,
Confidence, erosion.

Wire where I’m waiting,
Balance you’ll be fine,
Tested and deemed true,
Lips denied it’s wine.

Do you value it?
The gifts imparted,
Unrapped but boxed up,
Drink deep please that cup.

Safety in ghost numbers,
Haunting my best show,
Tepid little slow burns,
Washed out by love’s snow.

Try to wait not trashy,
Deftly circle the runways,
Breathe but suffocate,
In ‘allotted’ times each day.

Can you now feel it?
Out, strong, beating proud,
Seeping love, truest true,
Sadness here, nothing new.
Thomas Spychalski 

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