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poetry

You try to recreate the memory
sitting in the same place, the same way
playing the same song at the same time
thinking the same thoughts
trying

so desperately
to hold on
to the feeling

But you can’t

You know too much
You’ve lived too much
The song is different
The sunset is different
The world is different

The memory
Is left
Behind

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104 Riverside Drive House
Image Source: Tracy Stoops – peeeple.com

Your stoop was short
three steps from
street to door
shortening the distance
to you

The buzzer always died
third ring
then the door would wheeze open
and my pulse would race

Cooking smells in the foyer
black and white mosaic tiles
junk mail piling up on the floor

Up three flights
to the open door of 3F
where you always stood
waiting to welcome me
home

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