Paris 2

I relearned what it is like to be thirteen years old
And carefully ignored my heart-shaped gaping bleeding hole.
I'm free to roam the world, I'm free to up and run away.
But now there is no "to" and so I go wheree're I may.
A drifting soul, a poltergeist, a harpy, a banshee.
All terminal romantics. All terminally me.
My time of self-exile has passed
I came to mend my fractured heart.
Above its shards I stand aghast.
Detached, dejectedly.

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