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Jasleen kalra
And if you are to love,
Love as the moon loves.
It doesn't steal the night,
It only unveils the beauty of the dark.

And if you are to love,
Love as the rain loves.
It doesn't wet the bodies,
It only washes the sad dirt of the souls.

And it you are to love,
Love as the wind loves.
It doesn't drift away,
It only cleanse you to the core by invading through each pore.

And if you are to love,
Love as the sun loves.
It doesn't radiates heat,
It only pours its warmth on you to enlighten your way.

And if you are to love,
Love as the star loves.
It doesn't delightfully twinkles,
It only reminds you that not even death can separate two hearts.

And so forth,
if you are to love
Love as the whole universe
& not just a part of it.
Austin Lyons
When hope appears in jeopardy
Through tortured retrograde.
Turn weakness into weaponry,
Let misfortune whet your blade.
In teary moments haunted
That darkness ratifies,
Forge fear into your gauntlets
Turn doubt to battle cries.  
When faithfulness does crumble
And nerve begins to yield.
Mould aches and scars and stumbles,
To serve you as your shield.
Through all that does assail you
But one truth you must fulfill -
When heart or breath does fail you,
Be sure your spirit never will.
Spring is back, and
the birds are singing.

but when will I start to
Feel the seasons again?

In this hollowed out chest that
I used to call my home.
I wish I could heal from this. It just feels like a wound that doesn't heal all the way and keeps getting torn open.
Dustin Dean
Holy vortex
Which rests under our knees
Bring us closer
To the final disease
In which we realize
Life is nothing
But a sweet, sad dream
I guess yes,
Maybe I'm depressed or something.
That small level of having to do a lot and not wanting to, unable to move or hydrate or bathe,
But I'm convinced I am usually lied to and idk what I want except mostly everything and also nothing at all.
Scared because I've made a best friend with the man I love, who I hardly get to see at all and when he is busy living while I am alone 4 hours away and depressed I feel a bother
the sun is finally out but today I am going to lay in my room in the dark
Enjoying the weather for cigarette breaks but that's about it.
Get someone better bc I am lately a bummer
Knowledge Variable
Live now, live hard in passion, live now, as if
all eyes are on you to lead them, live as if forever exists
inside, let no mind be fraile and know fully-well,
death is around the corner, in all it’s conquering
glory, for death is definite. Live now, like if one
has destroyed both desire and anxiety. Live now,
as if you had discovered love. Live now, as if
your soulmate had just broke freely from the
mold of poetry and had demanded it from you.
Live now, as if your own fate is turn into a
burning Muse and in the transition into death,
your reward is be a martyr. For those are who
had lived when they had the chance.
Is it a coincidence
That all my favorite songs
Remind me of you?
Sawa na ako sa paulit-ulit
na pagturo kan luhà
hali sa panganoron.
Núarín taka mahihiling
sakuyang saldáng?
Núarín an tamang panahon
para ako naman an maogmá?

Kun pwede lang na kumuson
an gabos na panmátî ko,
irolyo sa papel
hali sa lumang notebook ko,
laagan nin dawon,
sulôon asin halaton
an gabos na kuanon
kan duros pasíring sa mayo.
Mayo man akong gusto
kundi maging maogmá.
at first it was your appearance
that i was attracted to
because i didn’t know much else
about you
then at the fair
finally got to know you
you were so shy
and i don’t think you knew
i wanted to make you mine
as months go by
and i fall more for you
i realize you’re so much more
than that quiet girl under that bridge
that i wanted to make laugh
just to see her smile
i’ve fallen for the time we share
the memories we’ve made
and the girl
i never thought
was ever gay
thought of this in the shower
I've caused pain that I myself would never be able to comprehend.
Guilt has engulfed me to a point where my every decision is somehow confirmed by it.
Or better yet I'm pushed forward or motivated by it.
I hurt because I hurt so badly
I loved sincerely even though it wasn't meant to happen.
I don't regret what I felt, I regret not showing it.
Even if I were given the chance to I still wouldn't.
I'd lose so much and I'd be stripped of my "grounded principals"
Oh Lord I apologize for entertaining the devil and spitting on your face.
Grand Piano
Step 1: Get out of bed
Step 2: Look in the mirror
Step 3: Practice your smile
Step 4: Eyedrops to hide the red eyes
Step 5: Conceal the dark circles
Step 6: Breathe
The curtains are almost up
Step 7: Lock down the pain
Step 8: Ignore the weight on your chest
Step 9: Silence the screams inside of your mind
Step 10: Choke down the sobs in your throat
Step 11: Ignore the stinging in your eyes
Step 12: Swallow past the tightness in your throat
You’ve put on this show a million times
Step 13: Don’t let them see
Times up. Curtains up. Camera rolling
You know how when you’re not ok but you try so hard to pretend you’re ok that it becomes a ritual
We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."

We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.

I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.

I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.

Please don't ever become a stranger,
whose laugh I can recognize anywhere.
Slur pee
I know that I’m small
And tend to build structures too tall,
They inevitably weaken;
Crack, crumble, and fall.
The ruins in this beaten chamber,
A reminder- a cratered scar,
A place for me to sink into the filth
and idly crawl.

To hide from heights of hope,
To run away from your calls.
Get rid of you in thought,
And heart

Abandon all.

We talk
And talk
And talk

But at the end of it all
One of use eventually has to hang up the phone

And then we sit there and wonder
When will be able to talk again?

And eventually we do
And we talk
And talk
And talk

And then we hang up the phone

I know you’re only 3 hours away
But it feels like there’s a whole universe of distance between us

I want to see you

I want to see you smile when I tell a cheesy joke
I want you to see me actively listening to what you’re saying
I want you to see me roll my eyes when you tease me
And I want to see you pretend to be offended when I call you a nerd

Because even though
We talk
And talk
And talk

Sometimes it’s just not enough
come with me
along this route
of clinging vines
and love's complicated
signs, with hot pink
roses and swelling

rest with me
and hear the singing
birds, the tap-tap-tapping
of the woodpecker's
rhythmic words,
the rushing creek's
burbling sheets

wet love
coats the banks and feeds
the turtles, nourishes
the mind and takes us
back to an ancient time,
your heartbeats
finding mine

come with me
into a passage of reckoning
and i will place my heart
in your palm, complexities
gone when we sink
in the loam, this wild
softness our home.
JL Smith
I'll wear myself out
Carrying this load
The one I believed I must burden

Embedded in my mind
Long ago
To heed echoes of the more "knowledgeable" person

But I'm learning in time
All they exclaimed as what's best
Doesn't fit my mold, it only worsens

Disregarding their judgement
Abandoning expectations
Looking within to sculpt my greatest version

© JL Smith
heard you got the C word thats not nice to know
now theres lots of treatments that can make it go
it may take a while  and some bravery
youll get better soon just you wait and see.

you have got the will and the fight within
also got the courage this fight you will win
you can show the c word its not there to stay
you will fight and fight until it goes it away.

to a special friend get well soon Caz
and to everyone with the  C word
Mister Granger
How warm is your touch
against the barren wasteland
that is my soul?

As we lay here, the dying sun
gives us one last taste of freedom
before falling from the sky.

Beneath a blanket of night
you find the courage
to remove the layers of insecurities
clinging to your fragile bones
like flesh.

We intertwine
and as our bodies become entangled
you whisper words of release
as your core throbs
to the pace that I've set for us.

You dare not utter a moan
for the silence has claimed us
in this moment of passion;

stealing your voice
but giving you something
greater in return.
For her; a reminder of that evening.
We are the ones who are hard to understand
We'll be the last ones in the movie theatre
because the ending scene made us cry
We'll stop to smell the roses
because they deserve to be appreciated
We are the ones who will take the time
to get to know what keeps you up at night
We are the ones who will imagine
an entire future of adventures
with the people who show us love

We are the ones who will love you more
than we love ourselves sometimes
We will give you our strongest parts
in hopes that we can make things better
We desire to see you become the best you
to make sure that you always feel our love
We crave affection and appreciation
We give a piece of ourselves away every day
sometimes to people who don't deserve it
Our love is easy to take advantage of
and sometimes we don't get back
the love that we give away

When we hurt, we crumble and fall apart
We constantly have to put ourselves back together
We are more fragile than we like to give off
We carry our emotions on our sleeves
Our flaws have the ability to consume us
We aren't afraid to give you the world
but we are afraid to feel unloved
We want you to see what we see
We want you to understand where we're coming from

We are good people with good intentions
We are stronger than we look like
Not everyone can feel the way we feel
We feel too much, too often
We are not hard to love
We are something not everyone knows how to love
But you need to remember that
your worth does not change just because
no one is there to appreciate you, to remind you

You are not any less lovable
You are the most lovable person in the world
You are a light that the world needs
Your kindness is not your weakness
You do not need to change for anyone's acceptance
You do not need to stop giving love
just because you don't get any back
Your heart is the best thing about you

And one day when you least expect it
someone will notice you from across the room
and know exactly how to love you
They will think all of these things are beautiful
They will deserve the love you can give
They will fill the empty space in your heart
But for now, don't stop feeling
We are the ones who feel everything so deeply
We are the ones who can't give up because
We are the ones who will teach the world
how to love
We are exactly who we are supposed to be
zelle ma belle

(zelle is an interbank system for sending cash in an instant to someone else’s bank account)

sent her an unexpected $250,
at 4:00am, of course,
a check-plus for her life,
because she revel reviews her day at school,
as special person day, teaches them well, and
anointed, appointed unsolicited confirmation by them
“as part of our family”
how they crave her body, her touch, at scary movie parts,
her kitchens diner size menu,
her refusal to ever disappoint,
her candy drawer supreme,
her crayon color visions which they execute,
her zen sense of their moods,
and for me,
for calling them without hesitation
my grandchildren

indeed more here hers than mine
she asks me why the $$ and poet doesn’t lie
but thinks quick at 7:30 am while bed prone,
“you won Nana of the Day award”
the only parent on the floor with two kids in her lap,
for the magic show,
the rest, benched, chattingly adultry things

she thinks on it and says
“ok, I accept!”

p.s. also,  I have yet to inform her of the (my) elimination of a
crystal champagne flute while doing my manly cleanup  from Friday night lights dinner pink champagne celebrating  
le weekend’s arrival

CA Smith
A house is built
The house becomes a home
The home turns into memories
The memories turn into people
The people turn into stories
Stories turn into legends
History is changed
Lives are changed
Love is spread
One Love
Bricks are purchased
That build houses
That turn into homes
That create memories
That turn into people
That turn into stories
That turn into legends
That change history
And it all started with
Just. One. Brick.
Sometimes it's tough when you are just laying bricks to see the end picture, but it makes a difference in the end! It can be so easy at times to feel like we aren't doing enough to help others or to grow ourselves, but one ripple affects the entire pond.
How do you forgive someone
For taking three years of
Trust, and
Throwing it back in your


How can you stay mad
At someone who once was your
Whole world, it was just one

pitch black god8
5 Sensory Deprivation Relevation  (Happy Birthday (Tomorrow), Will Shakespeare

I     the smell of sad

odor colorless like vodka, similar familiar sidewinder effects,
musty invasive, it has no specificity, no locale centrale, well closeted,
saddling saddlng, in place, plain sighted better to toy our lives,
pervades persists, worse lingers, impervious to sprays
and even everyone’s good literature (even Will’s)
good wishes good intentions and mood prayers
to the nearest lay god
on duty at the spiritual emergency room on weekends,

don’t think that this poem is for you; solely for the writer,
your doppelgänger doofus, your mirror’s inside hiding out place,
I, who has your sadness smell into my skin cells crept
waft woof and warp wet weft-woven
into the sad receptacles hidden in my
head’s cubbies and the palms of my tree hands-covering face

there are cures so wonderful and inexpensive but unavailable
at the local Rite Aid, though they are the right aid recoverable,
so closer than close, so close that the internist
cannot prescribe them because he must inject himself first
because the live bacteria in the antidote can kill all

this odor lays down bamboo-strong roots;
to eradicate you must dig down deep,
six feet perhaps more, with heavy earth moving equipment,
uproot at the source, follow sad always all-the-way down and the root
great god gone,
but the saddest truth
stench odor yet present

II    the taste of joy

the joy of cooking is not a gene in my litany possess,
but the buttery taste of joy I know, I know,
it’s a real princess rarity,
the hard costs of finding and keeping it,
I’ve paid endlessly and willingly pay on

the taste of joy is like presents under the tree,
shock surprises delights lives/life, customized, infectious
(except for socks, no matter how joyously exceptional),
joy to those whose buds never blossomed for its taste
readable on some one else’s, anyone’s facial expression

I think of it as the taste of fast traveling cumulus whites
upon my eyelashes blinking as they are speeding you by, but happy
for ten more behind before the evening stars takes over

the taste of joy is physical, there can be no denying,
concentrations can be found in the lips and the fingertips,
which you think of as a tandem, someone else’s on mine

but it ain’t necessarily so; the taste of joy, shared I, having submitted to others kisses carried on the wind that
found their mark and were well received,
poems from the heart
that arrive well,
as their intended is sleeping, and
as intended, as waking gifts

the taste of joy in droplet tears
when you are notified that words
you joined in holy matrimony made you cry,
because the reader did, wept for two,
the weeping of contentment released,
free at last from container confinement;
this particular taste of joy is in the  
recovery and recognition that these
are not for you,
just joy peculiar these tasted tears for whomsoever sheds them

III   the hearing of truthful

truth am told is oft served cold and hard up for the hearing,
best avoided tween noon and midnight and any time a
bathroom mirror is in the vicinity; though religious men lie
too easily; bathroom mirrors cannot; a character flaw for sure,
but the truth to be trusted is this: no one is truly contented, always there are the richer, the more famous, the employed and
someone above who has more, more burdens of a different sort,
better quality losses and pains unseen not dreamed of

truth tastes terrible and is awful sometimes noisy painful;
it hides well in the stink of sad exposed to the atmosphere when exposed it turns red humans blue

truth may set you free, free to be what are you are or truthfully
an admission of what greatness you have to release the trick is
use the correct scale, do not let the wrong sized ruler rule you,
the truth, if you hear, hear it unfiltered w/o the bias implanted
by not your people; hear your poet voice growl like a blues singer and be truthfully satisfied like no thing no person only you could hear it as you intended it be spoken

IV   touches of fantasy fantastic
secret confess: touch my fav cause when its juiced with
mental visions of what might be, it Saturday satisfies and let me weep happy smile silly and is mine all mind; yes another’s tip
has sorcerer powers of revelation
but alone by myself I yet
and flow; my hands are right sized, my arms reach around myself for so designed, and the pleasure is mine to give;
mine to take,
neither better or worse if self-administered,
touch myself anywhere anytime and fantasy over dreams wins,
rise up, touch is a language and I speak six or a hundred;
listen to the sounds of touching and be touched human

V  insights for the sightless

at last we close the deprived
with an elegant elevation
sight overrated when imagination exists,
cannot be restrained
this the revelation
you have proffered and preferred all this time

have pity on me
I crystallize the unseen with the replacements
of my conjuring
the other senses lend a hand
telling me look up look up, be life save life
let your madness blossom in the spring airs,
the coolness of a first fingered ungloved snow
a mathematical function from the other four derived,
sightless an impossibility for with one alone defeat the
sensory deprivation and give tongues to words


read my face
incapable of,
but now how now bow my head to Will
for teaching the way of words traced upon
a simple man’s tongue
so that he may sense
all the better,
for the betterment
he holds the sun.
i know this because
he emits a piece of it’s shine
towards me every day.
it’s in his smile
when he hasn’t seen me in a while;
it’s in the warmth of his skin,
holding me from within -
i look up to him
always shining
although occasionally clouded
from view;
he is my one constant.
the grandest star in the sky.
for my love.
Our first date involved you shoving your tongue down my throat and i don’t know if it’s because you couldn’t get enough of me or you couldn't get rid of the taste of her.
The sun, shining on your pale skin.
The slight summer breeze making your hair dance.
The view of you by my side.
I'm in peace.

The calming tones of your voice.
The safety in your arms.
The warmth coming from your heart.
I'm in peace.

This feeling I know too well.
This scared feeling of bonding.
This attraction was messed with before.
But I'm in peace.

And with you, I will risk this feeling once more.
Mister Granger
I know why the caged bird sings.

It's not because his song
is as vibrant
as his feathers, that he plucks away
each day because he doesn't
feel beautiful.

It's not because of the majesty
that exist in the freedom
of being able to spread his wings
though he knows
he'll never rise to the occasion.

He sings because he believes
that this cage
was made for a king
because he has never tasted
freedom with a side order of skies.

He's never flown past the sun
on a cool morning
or hung with the moon
on a warm night.

He's only ever known
the comfort of a prison
that his thoughts have
become accustomed
to calling home.

He would never venture
beyond the "welcome" mat
because what's beyond the threshold
holds no promise
the way these bars and metal locks do.

He sings because he knows
that no one is listening
so if he makes a mistake
he doesn't have to live with the regret
or embarrassment of knowing that he missed his note.

The caged bird
never believes that he's caged
because behind these walls
he's safe
and he prefers it this way.

I know why the caged bird sings.
A twist on a title by one of my favorite authors...
Linnea Louise
you promised
we would
meet each other
one day.
we would go
crab fishing
and drink some wine,
looking at the sunset
a little bit drunk
on the sandy beach.
smelling the salty air.
it was just empty words.
meant everything to me,
and nothing for you.
I am just a bunch
of flowers you
got tired of
hanged me on your
wall, my flower soul
dried like a desert.
dead from all the promises
you made.
beautiful but forgotten.
and it was so
simple for you
to just buy a
new bunch
of flowers.
Fox Friend
And on the final day,
I watched the flames
lick up my words
for you.

I set them all ablaze;
none of them
made you
Your soul is shaken by the turbulent seas
A ship unsuited for the journey
You dream of sleep in safe harbor
Salt water washes your tears.

Without a course you drift
Upon the waves
The last drop of fresh water
Has moistened your lips

Seeking the guidance of the stars
You gaze upon the skies
Dark clouds obscure your view
And send you to the maelstrom.

In the darkest of the muddy night
A ray of light stirs your soul
The clouds have parted
And Polaris appears.

With hope abandoned
You glide toward the light
Blind faith fills your sails
And leaves the storm in your wake.

Fatigue and failure grip your spirit
You are overtaken with sleep
Your nightmares are quiet
And you float peaceful like a gull.

Was it the light or the heat
That stirred you at dawn?
Calm. Steady. Warm.
A harbor safe from the sea.

That faulty compass at your feet
It was so foolish to trust
Tossed overboard, it disappears
Quietly like your past.
zahra wang
           cherry red
                and ever so
          ­                                      could i
                                      invite them over
                   so they could lay
         ever so softly
on mine?
kiss me before you go
A big fat nobody

Do my words make me?
Do they mistake me? Do they create me?
I hold on to all that I am
All that I feel
All that I feel I need to say

Is who I am determined by
who I choose to be?
or do the memories I hold make me?
Make me!
Make me!
Oh my god why has my life forsaken me?
Betrayed me? Set me up and played me!
Let my progress take me, shake me!
and push me to places where I am welcome unwelcomed

Stained in all that I do, All that I am
Who I am!

Who am I?
Who am I?

Who am I...
Nihit Bhatia
Ohhh dear mommy, ohhhh dear mommy,
answer me with full honesty,
why did you bring me to this world,

I am only 5 as of now,
learning to speak clearly wow,
but old men ask me to bow,

when I go to nursery,
my teacher plays with me,
he gives me a flesh toy,
and says enjoy,

I do not like what he does,
but no one there listens,
when my scream goes,

I cannot sleep at nights,
I am scared he will bring,
his wooden scale to hit me,

I have stopped drinking milk,
the white color haunts me,
and all boys taunt me,
on seeing my skirt getting dirty,

Ohh mother is this how all men behave,
with little angels like us
is daddy also like my teacher,

Before coming to this world,
god told me to enjoy my life,
but now I want to go back,
where I came from,

Darkness is better I feel,
than to see myself even in mirror,
getting molested.

Take me back,
where I cam from,
Just take me back.
The flowers in my living room are wilting
But I refuse to throw them out
I remember the night I got them
More like a dream than a reality

Some days my house smells sweet
Often all I can smell is the rot
The summer heat is unforgiving
And dying quickly becomes dead

The fallen flowerpetals cover my floor
Visitors navigate between them to reach my couch
They talk about the weather and other trivial things
And they, very politely, don’t mention
The dead flowers in my living room
Nat Lipstadt
4/10/18 10:55pm ~ 4/22/18 2:02 am


a simpler than plain fact,  
deserving reflection beyond the obvious,
containing obverse emotional mine field sonar arrays
floating on an ocean unhidden,
listening for the ocean's bleeping hid-dens,
before surrendering to its suck-sinking power of time/gravity
the better life elsewhere is always someone’s misery

confetti is just tomorrow’s garbage

someone stood on lower Broadway at 5am
watching the sanitation men sweeping up the aftermath of a super bowl  victor’s celebration, with broom heads borrowed from giants’ moustaches

passage of a single thought,
that the victorious celebrated on the parade should
a posteriori be required to participate
in this flip-side experience as
‘active cleaner uppers,’
re-enacting the famous Persian Sufi adage,

“this is too shall pass”

someone whispers we have blessed lives,
rich in the experiential, free of the dragging boredom
of the daily draining of making it, head well above of the
humanizing periodic regularizing water dunkin’ reminder
of just

“we too shall pass”

so even the confetti honorees must have too someone whose
life to aspire, the top of the heap, in chained food chain world

assaying perfection and the luck thereof,
picture perfect lives cannot withstand tsunamis of
waves eroding their shapes, wearing boundaries down,
do not forget the invisible invitation from the riptide
just beneath the calm surgical surficial surfacing disguises

if you face my book, will find in a later chapter prior
the fine sorry lines, the pierced titanium bulletproof vest,
the divorces of mistakes remade, the haunted envisioning,
the obligatory items that keep you awake, those awesome
responsibilities that take many small bites of a soul’s coverlet
that cannot be removed isolated jailed or desperate destroyed

confetti rained interspersed with droplets of sand grains,
this man of constant tomorrows, hopeful Mondays, bad Fridays,
is a man of constant sorrows,
pictures and poems life celebrating a never allowed to forget
lucky runs out like the string from packages saved
when no more packages arrive

when the packages no longer get delivered
oh that started years ago, when came the bile instead
of the blood’s replacement clotting factors

passing is a sometime thing
sometime is a most imprecisely defined terminus
sometime means that today’s confetti is a day away
from soured garbage
and you are forever responsible for the cleanup

a picture worth a thousand words
but in me lives tens of thousands words

“this is too shall pass”
finally finished fin
hell is a place where
you constantly love those that
do not love you back.
Johnny Noir
thinking of days as kisses
so everyday is like a kiss;
think of night as mystery
so every night is a mystery
Stefan Smith
depression depression depression

Stop it.


I is me and
you are you.
Seperate from identity
yet your lies root to my core.
I can't help but listen as
gravity gradually seems heavier

You can feed on me
that's fine.
Distort my reality
and take my smile.
But you will never take my hope.

The endless source behind the
Of my soul.
You'll never cease the
I in me.

So form each woe,
but forever is my soul.
Endureth this universe.

Go ahead.

Take me.

depression depression depression
you simply wanted to see if the rest of the world holds itself against you
or if they had leaned one too many weight against you
because this feel very textbook
instructions that are laid out in perfect grammar
and reality that sinks not quite right
and briefly you wondered if the world conspired against you
or probably loved you too much
to have too high of an expectation
either way this feels very textbook
though with no report card
nor angry teachers to begin with
My words are like knives;
Most of the time -
They pierce you;
They are the unwanted truths.

My words are like candy;
Some other times -
They are sugary;
They get me what I want.

My words are inspirational;
When the need be -
They are like fire;
They warm up your heart.

My words are powerful;
And influential -
They command respect;
They cannot be ignored.
Yep. I totally wrote a poem about my words lol. Hope you enjoyed this piece.
Namita Anna Givi
Four years down, we still chat up
He still calls me and I still pick up
We tell each other every small this and every tiny that-
He tells his feats and I tell my wars.

I know his flaws all too well
But I know his good all the more better
I know I would fight off the devil for him
About him though, I could never tell.

I think somewhere deep within, I know
This friendship is deep but not for long.
For the day, She gives the stare
He would leave ; with neither a tear nor a care.

So I cherish each second, each day
For it brings us a page nearer to the end.
For the day is not far, when the story ends
And we go back to being strangers-by-years.
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