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Image from Google.com

Image from Google.com

This is not a love poem

I do not write this in the darkness of

my room, awash with emotions that I,

cannot contain.

I do not see those emotions now;

they’re not the crooked hands on

my shoulders, pulling me down,

setting me free.

My heart does not beat along with

every word; fast like the drums and cymbals of that

band last year that didn’t perform in what

is not our favourite bar.

Or like the ta-ta that the rain didn’t make

against our windshield that night.

I’m not turning and tossing on the bed;

the bed isn’t too large, empty.

The wind isn’t cold tonight.

Your thoughts aren’t in my head.

your laughter is gone from my ears.

I do not remember your smile.

You’re all gone from my memory;

gone, like the past. Gone: forever.

I warn you: this is not a love poem.

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