Ours is a culture of loss,
and forgetfulness—to enclose the shadows
of pain, perhaps put them in a box
to be stowed away in a closet, never
to see the light of day again.
Perhaps one day you will forgive me, let me
bask in the sunshine of your presence,
though that smile be cold, and distant,
saying that I was never
yours, “Who
are you?”
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