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Third mailbox from the right

Dear you,

If for every time you touched me
I had a dime
My pocket would spill
The coins would roll
To the edge
I'd go to the edge with you
They teeter on the edge of reality
Until we wonder if it's real

If I could touch you whenever I needed to
We'd never be apart

If I could grab the collar of your jacket
And yank you down the hall
Like I used to
That old jacket would have imprints
Where my fingers go

If you could tell me I was beautiful
Whenever I knew I wasn't
I'd be pretty always

If those heirlooms weren't faded
And we could read the words
They'd assure us
That what we had was forever

But they were faded
And we never did see them
Just wore them
Let them encircle us
Meaningless words
Filled with meaning

We didn't see it
You don't see it

We can't see it now

And our dimes are few
They're in my pocket
I finger them
Waiting for them to come alive
And tell me something

And I don't touch you anymore
We're apart

That old jacket of yours
Has the collar turned up
So you're not reminded
It wouldn't matter

And I'm never beautiful
No one tells me
I wouldn't care

Those rings we got
They're faded
Never read the words
Never tried
We should've tried

Gone are the words, the ring, the everything
It rolls
Teeters on the edge of reality
Until we wonder if it's real
It doesn't seem real
Those old faded things



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