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FML

Each time
we meet
the goodbye embrace
loses power.

The time between
your face
and the street
shortens
and I find
I want
to care less
about the
reasons why.

Over coffee
we talk about
the hims
and the hers
but not the us…
there is no us.

There is you
there is me
there are pauses between words
there are glances across tables
but there is no us
and I cannot seem to
make sense of this idea.

I want to feel joy again.
I want to feel passion.
I want to wake in the middle of the night
and watch you sleep
as I used to.

Somewhere along the way
I lost the way and
when I wasn’t looking we grew up.

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