Poem #3

Apr 28

1 min read

You don’t exist

Right?

I made you up

For months

To quell the lackluster monotony

That freeway exit isn’t real

Right?

I never really drove there

Because this profound melancholic yearning can’t exist

From missed to mist

There’s an empty clearing

No evidence, no proof

Just my hollow chest

Your name is just a tip-of-the-tongue phenomenon

Real life Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

A vague recollection

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