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Poems

Her


when I sit by your grave,

doing the same thing

we always do,

it’s hard to feel anything

the reason why isn’t clear

 

-right across the highway

ignorant adolescents

play with sticks and balls…

 

I never question your motives

anymore

 

they called you a coward

and I wish I could hang them

since they deserve it

and you didn’t

 

the longer I wait

the more distant you are

until you fade completely

 

memories will always be

sweeter than the present

3 replies on “Her”

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