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Mar 2022
It was a Wednesday and you were sorry.
I had found that coffee stopped tasting as good and rain became oddly ugly.
Puddles, which once held a sense of charm, lost their grandeur.
Apologies were routinely part of our dialogues.
Slowly they stopped making sense.
Like alphabet soup, the letters lost their meaning when they were jumbled in such chaos.
I do think you meant them, but I stopped wanting them.
I just wanted coffee to be rich again, and rain to bring gladness.
I wanted a full-bodied life back.
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