the only poem you ever wrote.

Never gone, always present.
Never there, always here.
Never distant, always close.
Even when miles away, only inches from your voice.
That is all one can strive for, and hopefully being “Gone, gone, gone,” isn’t a permanent state, but the past.

A relic.

Time and chances have been given but allow for one more, for I know it can be different. It can be better, not just good but great, not stagnant but progressive and sustainable. There’s no reason for forgiveness, no reason to try again, except one.

I love you, let me try and be better, for you. Help me, keep me accountable, guide me because in this life all I want is to follow you.

Call me when you read this, no matter where you are. Please.


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