Clustered Crevice

I remember small things, things people will forget and I’ll bring them up and they’ll know

They’ll think I’d have forgotten that their favourite colour was not just one or really a colour itself, but a cluster

They’ll soon forget that I even knew they needed a home in which I only offered a small crevice to climb in and squeeze

But I remember, even if I don’t want to, but there’s a few songs I’ll listen to and maybe you’ll hear mine in a book store while reading a future published poem by me

Maybe you’ll have moved forward because I’m a fire pit of old sabotaged photographs that once burned bright of love and things that you didn’t know had a an expiry date to

But we’ll find a way, if not to each other, to another soul just like ours, but not too alike where its suffocating and maybe just maybe, we’ll see each other again

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