There are traces of you
still strewn through my days,
loose threads
strung among sinews,
like a coffee stain
that was once there,
gone now
like it never existed,
to everyone but me.
I still see your faint outline
against the newly white linen-
whether or not I am hallucinating,
you are still here,
and I want you to leave
(even though you already did,
and I want you to stay)
even though you already left.
You are gone
to everyone but me,
and I am tangled up
in your loose threads,
so carelessly abandoned in my heart,
even though
you never knew
they were there.
still strewn through my days,
loose threads
strung among sinews,
like a coffee stain
that was once there,
gone now
like it never existed,
to everyone but me.
I still see your faint outline
against the newly white linen-
whether or not I am hallucinating,
you are still here,
and I want you to leave
(even though you already did,
and I want you to stay)
even though you already left.
You are gone
to everyone but me,
and I am tangled up
in your loose threads,
so carelessly abandoned in my heart,
even though
you never knew
they were there.

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