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Mar 2019
The last rays of the sun are touching the third floor of the buildings.
Same color as the clouds.
For as long as I look at it, it will stay there,
perfect and frozen and beautiful.
The moment I look away it will be gone.

If only I could hold this last light in my hands,
like a cup to keep me warm,
like a bowl that brims over.

Peek through the blinds again tomorrow, love.
I'll still be here.
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