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Every day
I wake up in a house of ghosts.
I watch our cartoons on the couch where we cuddled.
I see the lake where we skipped rocks
Or the forest where we’d hide away from the world.
Places we’d bike, or run, or sing, or dance.
Driving to clear my head of you,
I go down the one highway in this town.
I see the church where we met,
Pass the supermarket where we fought,
To school where I’d show up 45 minutes early
To see you and buy your lunch.
I pass our date spot,
Or the place where I’d met you in an emergency,
And your best friend’s house that you’d point out every time
And peer childishly through the glass to look for him.
That’s what you get when you live in a small town.
Every person I see still asks me how you are.
It’s been years.
But I remember it all.
Every stolen kiss, every hiding place, every secret.
I drive out of town, haunted,
Swallowing down these petrified images that slice my throat,
And hoping this city of ghosts
Will fade in my taillights.
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This is beautiful 💜
Sorry to know it reminds you of someone who isn't with you to do all this stuff now
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