The Memory

November 10, 2011
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I walk up the stairs the house cold.

The windows were broken, the frames

Were on the floor cracked and broken, full of mold.

It wasn’t a fire that would probably be tame.
I walked into my room.
My room was destroyed, my window broken.
If I stayed here like I wanted it would be my doom.
As I walked into the destruction I found a token.

It bid me to look to my right.

I turned and there you were. Standing before my eyes.

I almost cried as my stomach went tight.

You touched my face to my despise.
My head went toward it. A tear off my face.
You waited for me; then you disappeared without a trace.

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