I don’t hear your voice anymore
Nor do I catch myself catching your face in the crowds.
I left an impression on you
While the memory you etched in me dissipates.
I can still recall the way to your house,
Perched on top of the hill,
Reminding me of things gone by.
Perhaps you remember too,
Which is why you visit me
In the in-between world of dreams.
Hoping against hope that you can find a way back
To who we were.
To the stories we told ourselves about the future
And to something that could never be.
Because that restaurant we loved closed,
That park with the lake outgrew us,
And the house that we built fell apart.
A part of me searches for it in the dark,
For that place calls to me as well,
Whispering that all things are possible
When I lay myself to sleep.
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