The Last Sunset

This is the last poem I write
for you.
Your soothing voice
and the way your whole body shakes when you laugh;
it's like your shoulders are screaming for applause,
wanting the whole world to see your approval.
Your deconstructionist attitude
and your shaggy blonde hair
and your annoying John Mellancamp pandora station.

These are things I don't care about ever seeing again -
I'll never listen to your records.
I'll never drive by your house just to see if you're in.
I'll never let my breath get caught in my throat because you turned around to talk to me.
That's not me anymore.

I've always loved your name
and I never held your hand,
but I'm okay with that.

You were so tall, I couldn't reach you,
but you made me feel something real once.
And I thank you for that.

This is the
last sunset
and it sure is mediocre,
I found my real paradise somewhere else.

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