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Dec 2018
you aren't gone, I tell myself
just a game put on pause
a phone call on hold
I see the back of your head
a side profile in a crowded train
the faint smell of you
sweat, skin, smoke, soap
I'll join you in the eventual
when my particles disperse to night
into pavement and dirt and sky
connected to the stars
that have always smiled at you
where I long to be
Written by
Arke  30
(30)   
318
     --- and AJ
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