Heirloomed

What trembling feet these ghosts do hover.
That fog on my soul.
The weight in my heart.
Fourteen years this grudge left uncovered.
Twinkling at me like a dying star.
What news will I sip over my morning tea?
Your heart stopped beating?
Slates washed clean?
The gust of air that divides our minds.
Forever blowing me away.
Blowing in the smell of seas of change.
Yet I ponder on that trinket.
Dipped in vines to pull me back.
Untether me from now and push me into time.
The heirloom state of mind.

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