I let it fall.
When it hits
it leaves a mark —
a canyon in fact,
one so deep I’m never going to get
to the bottom of the damage
it’s left behind, but at least
I don’t have to carry it anymore —
God,
it was the size of the sky,
the color of old blood,
and how it stank.
I’ve let it fall
and there’s nothing
on my shoulders now —
my lightened,
lonely shoulders.
Dark Matter 
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