Art by Vincent Van Gogh

Young; tall; lean.

Why is it so
that there is such a row
over what becomes
of us;
it sickens
my already-pale heart.

Must I shut
close
the chamber which echoes
with your thoughts?

Time shall pass
as it always has been;
lean, I am
to your much-awaited approaches.

What is there to do
but to carve my heart
in a distorted shape –
one which does not even
remotely resembles you;
contrary to what it has been
for a while.

***

Art by Vincent Van Gogh

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