pain is not a place in which to live,
yet there is a rawness - a reality that comes from such a place.
life as hurt, throbbing of difficulties and tribulations.
a deep that intensifies something within,
something new, vulnerable, unidentified.
sorrow that must be fed, watched, and tended to,
lest it become uncontrollable.
a place of melancholic creativity,
were life means so much as it becomes
something outside, overpowering, intense,
honest and raw, a tightrope that is love and love lost.
maybe it is a place to live,
not in pain, but open to it.
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