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The street was called Happiness if recall remains a remnant right
There were no lights where I gazed but suddenly
You appeared like an answer to a question that I’d never asked myself.
There were many like you on this street- two were your friends
I don’t know if they still are…
But I dream about this street often when I feel alone
Not often enough
And I whisper your name in all the darkest corners
Because I always think you’re going to be there
When I wake up.
You never are.
I live on this street but I live with a spirit
He loves me and I love him
But he isn’t you.
He can never be you.
by Evelyn M. Wallace
July 21, 2009
All rights reserved by the author