29.

I think of you soaked in a past, emerging like perfume gifting the air

I think of the wonder of the what to come, as I wander lost words, soft in embrace

I think of you still; as you leave me behind,

as I battle against the rose tinted garden of then.

And she isn’t her, but a place and a time, when I wasn’t so aware of what I’d never regain.

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