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There’s a statue outside my window
treating winter’s death like a borrowed lover.
So many unused cracks in the sidewalk
smiling like dried flowers on this mercury night.
You cannot help but spill your thoughts to me,
while I stand hopeless w/ amusement memory.
Sometimes in summer the river lies only too well
and hides us both in blue fog.
Listening to soft jazz, your song screams in my throat,
beginning in my cotton filled head.
There used to be a statue outside my window,
I wake speechless to a dawn sliding down the street.
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