from the bottom of my empty heart

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He Resigns

He Resigns, by John Berryman.

Age, and the deaths, and the ghosts.
Her having gone away
in spirit from me. Hosts
of regrets come and find me empty.

I don’t feel this will change.
I don’t want anything
or person, familiar or strange.
I don’t think I will sing

anymore just now,
or ever. I must start
to sit with a blind brow
above an empty heart.

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