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Untitled, or, why the ceiling fan drives me crazy some nights
He loves me for who I am, but so do you.
He makes me smile and laugh, but so do you.
He makes me feel safe and warm and chases all the nightmares away,
but so did you,
when you had the chance.
He’s got his problems, and so do you.
And when I left they got worse,
but so would his,
if I left…
And every night I stare at the spots on my ceiling
as I lie awake,
contemplating what the difference really is,
if I’m really happier now,
or if I just like to tell myself so.
Steven RuDe Harris
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