The last time you said goodbye
You gave a crooked smile. You
Waved and in that instance I
Let a good friend die. What
Prevents a simple call, why
Do I pretend to have fallen
So far off the map so as to be
Dead myself. In this winter bliss
The air couldn't be more dry.
Curled on a couch I remember
Nights in your chair, body aching
Like a child who emerged with
Fresh eyes and forgone thoughts
Of reunion with the womb. That
Warm space we wish to return to
Before we reach that icy tomb.
A companion to hold close with these
Troubled thoughts of failure,
To reconnect with the other
Dove, when we flew so close together.
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