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 Jun 2016 the Sandman
Hannah Rose
I am not who I want to be:
I am someone I pretend to be.
I want someone who will see me.
Someone who will allow me to be,
the real version of me.
Someone who doesn't see
the faux flaws I've given me.
I need to be someone worthy of me:
someone I can be proud to be.
I said, "I love you"
while expecting nothing back,
and I got just that.

Silence, then, "I know."
Meanwhile Cleveland is on fire,
as I hold you close.
~
You ask me to stay,
but your kisses are so short
they fade on contact.

Like butter in a
hot skillet, or water, they're
evaporating.

Yet one is sweet and
the other is so common
it hardly matters.
~
I'm remembering,
the winter we first met, where
I had first kissed you.

Then you disappeared
for three short years or something
pretty close to that.

Reflecting winter,
the sun came up, you started
evaporating.
~
I'm leaving you at
the greyhound station when you
kiss me finally.

The finality
hangs on my lips for so long
it's hardly ended.
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