Well I still read your poems sometimes,
All curled and cursive
Feeling thin in my ragged hands.
And I still breathe
And I breathe the same,
Except when I exhale
It's your name that escapes.
Well I still remember
And you just forget.
Well you had all the love
And I only sentiments.
Well I still write you poems,
And you just leave epitaphs.
Well, I still remember
Well the curve of your neck,
And pale freckled skin crinking
In the corners of your laugh.
And I'm still cut from hard lines,
All steel and jade
A man of means and demands.
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