Unfinished sentenc

.... my exquisite ache. Jules Laforgue, from Modern Poets of France: An Anthology; "Lament of the Pianos Heard in Rich Neighborhoods"

I have a mirror joke but it’s too early

Imagine being sad and ugly

Just because I adopted a tragic sense of humor to express myself doesn’t mean I’m depressed.

I want to be gone in autumn

“She chose to walk alone Though others wondered why Refused to look before her, Kept eyes cast upwards, Towards the sky. She didn't have companions No need for earthly things. Only wanted freedom, From what she felt were Puppet strings. She longed to be a bird. That she might fly away. She pitied every blade of grass For planted they would stay. She longed to be a flame, That brightly danced alone. Felt jealous of the steam That made the air its only home. Some say she wished too hard. Some say she wished too long. But we awoke one autumn day To find that she was gone. Some say she wished too hard. Some say she wished too long. But we awoke one autumn day To find that she was gone. The trees, they say stood witness. The sky refused to tell. But someone who had seen it said The story played out well. She spread her arms out wide. Breathed in the break of dawn. She just let go of all she held... And then she was gone.”