Having conversations with myself
taking toys down off the shelf
I look across the room to the mirror
and you’re not there
anymore.
I pick up all the things we dropped before
try to pick myself up off the floor
look across my life to the stories I’ve told
and no one listened.
Letting bygones go again
put myself back on the shelf
I look across the whole wide world
and you’re not there
anywhere.
By Friday you’ll be an anecdote.
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