No more,
no more.
It is gone
and lost to us now –
the how and the where and the why.
All that’s left
there in the remains of
a million Saturdays
is a listless, wondering haze
of woulds and coulds and shoulds:
the regrets of age.
And the rage,
the rage,
in flashes and waves
that the end of days
makes equal ash and bone
of both the fool and the sage.
Beautiful.
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Thank you!
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My pleasure.
xoxoxo
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‘in the remains of
a million Saturdays
is a listless, wondering haze
of woulds and coulds and shoulds:
the regrets of age.’
My mind is blown. This piece is very well written!
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Thank you!
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Regrets and rage get along well.
Wonderful! 🙂
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Thank you! Yes, I think they’re often present together, though it varies which shows up first.
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Lovely…
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Thank you!
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Wow, you’re amazing. I’m so glad I found your blog. Loved this ❤❤
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Thank you so much! This sweet comment made my day!
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You’re most welcome 🙂
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