We've been here one too many times,
and I can recite you line for line.
I keep my poems underneath my pillow
so the ink seeps deep inside my dreams.
If you can only hear the light I see you in.
If you can only feel the words I wrap you in.
And then I woke up and stood and I stopped and stared
and I watched and listened and finally realized that it is just me.
I feel miserable and it feels wonderful.
The whole way home, with no hands, I held onto the hopes of holding you.
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