Midnight pining
Those minuscule gaps,
the dripping from the tap,
that soon became the sea between you and me
My fading glow, with the things I didn’t know.
How you’d take my years as your sign to go.
But am I ever in your head, dead of night, in your bed?
Do your hands still reach for the phone?
Does your head hold the regret of all the seeds you could’ve sown?
Because
every time I see your face, trace your name and start the chase
I recall how you left me
and how you left me
Alone.
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