there are parts of me that want to cry
to fall apart in the way an empty shell is broken upon the pacific's surf
something keeps convincing me to stand there in front of that ocean
knowing that it takes less than two seconds to engulf me
yet i find myself standing here waiting for her
not even waiting for her but for some symbol of her presence
i have found someone as nomadic and evasive as i
so i try to contain my fascination of her in my own world
knowing it is bound to fail
one cannot hold a horse to corral, knowing that its counterpart is out there
so when you have two horses at great distances from each other
how do you determine the difference between corral and range?
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