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I'll look at everything forever

There is a place

Where all answers lie

Thank you for all your words

But I won't pretend

Like I won't live forever
I
can’t
Tell.  if
The      sky
Above       Is real

Or not          Quite there

Quite near                            Enough
To hold                                                   The stars
In the                                                                             Palm of
My hand                                                                                         And be
So glad                                                                         That I
Can see                                             The light
That shines         All through

The night.       Will it

Go out? Will it?

Will      it?

Go
out?
She lived in my inbox,  
a constant pulse of memes and midnight thoughts,  
fragments of her days in a city I’d never walked
a movie recommendation
a reminder to sleep early
a nudge to wake up and try again.  

Even from miles away
she found a way to stay close
weaving herself into my new routine
as if distance was just another setting
to adjust.  

Her life moved forward in photos and captions
shared glimpses of places I could only picture
I watched, I listened, I responded  
but slowly, the messages thinned,  
the spaces between them stretching wider
until silence settled where she used to be.  

Yet
even now,
some nights I still hear her voice in my head:  
“Go to sleep early”  
as if she’s still looking out for me
somewhere beyond the screen.
There's no happiness
without freedom
no freedom
without self-understanding
and letting
go of the past-
the self  must be
without cleavage
its thinking
must not be smudged
by what  went before-
the best yield
can't be reaped
by an infertile field

the old self
has to be reformed
or there would
never be true freedom
always the artist
hidden behind her canvas
never the muse
with a languid smile
always the composer
forever lost in false reverie
never the music
a song, a symphony
always easy to like
just for a while
never worth my price
in the transaction of respite
always the sacrifice
on the altar of lies
never the worshipped
devoted only to my light
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