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This is exactly how I remember it feeling. The falling, I mean.

You’ve been gone a week

And I am fine,

But my bed misses you.

It’s not me.

I do not care.

Not even a little.

But the sidewalk keeps mentioning you in conversation and,

I swear to God,

Yesterday a street lamp asked me where you have been,

He said,

Shouldn’t he be standing underneath me and kissing you right now? It’s a Friday.

If you don’t believe me, fine.

Ask the cobblestones,

Ask the cabinets,

Ask the church bells

They’ll all back me up.

There are a lot of corners of this city begging you to come home already.

Come home already.

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