I can’t imagine you here anymore,
whether it be the passage of time
or if I’ve purposely pushed you
from my mind.
This place I call mine,
a place we called ours.
Now I pick the flowers,
wash and leave the dishes;
plates standing tall, suds
dripping down like a girl
caught in the rain,
but it doesn’t matter
because she was already crying.
Perfect!
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Thank you Eric ☺️
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So few words and so good.
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Thank you very much! ☺️
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