Continuations

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I’d be observant- after all

.

I never thought I’d notice

Absence of footsteps echoes

Like when we walked together

.

And who would’ve known,  

What magic a scent truly holds

Especially, after it’s long gone

.

But those phantom touches

Are too real on my erupted skin

So, there must be- something

Besides my broken imagination

.

I swear, I can almost hear

Your voice whisper my name

Just as the daily sun … sets

.

Poet of the Light © 2022

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