If the very notion
makes you cry,
If just the thought without a dab of reality,
stops your heart,
makes your head roll,
your breath halt,
brings down dizzy drapes of the surreal.
What do you do?
Do you say what hasn't been said?
Repeat what hasn't been heard?
Hold it all in?
Live like the splayed out vibrant orange of a tiger lily?
Or like the shriveled white of a morning glory at dusk?
What do you do?
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