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Who am I without you?

You send me notes from every hiding place in the world,

sketches of my dreams,

those late-night whispers I shared while

sweat beaded our sake glasses and smoke swirled above us.

“We’ll do it together,” you’d said.

Now it’s just you on the stage of Instagram,

as I sit and watch you act out

those things I swore I’d do before I died.

I no longer remember where you end

and I begin.

We were never more together

than when you left me behind.

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