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but our planets still revolve
around the same sun
and sometimes our orbits
can’t help but coincide
it’s inevitable

and when you walk into the room
the walls turn into ice
and my blood runs cold
creating snowflake patterns on my lungs
and I just want to flee from here
except gravity won’t let me

always thinking
today could be the day
you’d finally speak to me
“Happy Easter” perhaps,
or “God bless you,” or
inanities, like the weather
but every day’s silence is more final,
more unyielding than the last

and I wish you’d stay
right there: just a glacial few yards away
just so I could torment myself
by watching you
press buttons on your Blackberry
wondering what you’re telling who
something and someone
totally unknown to me

but then I wish you’d leave
because every minute I share this
approximate reality with you
I feel a little more insignificant
and fear the hour when
there’d be nothing left of me

but when you do leave
the edifice of my reason crumbles
leaving me in an identical
state of devastation
as on the day you said we couldn’t be

.

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