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Harvest

by Richard Vince

Despite assumptions, this is not
The ending I wanted for you.

Once all the futilities had been
Stripped away, my one remaining
Wish was to be wrong after all.

It would be easy to blame her, but
I planted the seed she watered:
The dark loam of my soul has
Long been fertile ground in which
Bitterness flourishes all too easily.

And now is the time we reap
The harvest: a shattered heart
From which gold is withheld
By a selfish miser who once disguised
Himself as a friend.

Hopefully, your real friends are real friends,
Ones you can trust to want the best
For you rather than whatever
It was I was after.

May they help you to see
The small joys that will always
Be there to be found; may they
Uphold you in the face of darkness
Until you can stand unaided again.

03/13/2023

Posted on 05/29/2023
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Johanna May on 05/30/23 at 01:21 AM

There is grace in accountability, I hope she can read this poem, or feel it, whoever or whatever she is.

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