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May 2022
46
My hands are cold, too cold
the wind burning my nose,
as it pushes me across the road,
hitting me with the reality
that I'm not there where the sun is

Numbers jump out at me
Splashing my face
with their significance

Buses meeting trains and hotel rooms

...you never did leave, did you?

It was I who left.

Hours, numbers
Days, years
A decade and 3 years
and this is the first
but hopefully the last

Magnified void that clenches me

I get lost most times
but those numbers again,
Always coming up to remind me...

reflective tears
as the clock ticks past
to the past

and I am left with my hands
on my face and the clock's face

Trembling fingers touching keys

Chilled by so many reasons--
Emptied by the sighing seasons

I remind myself to smile,
amidst these blurry letters

Your laughter
resonating in my heart

Never leaving me
05062017151a226
raen
Written by
raen
811
   guy scutellaro
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