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About Poetry Other Exits Back to Artemisu! ______________________________________________ I’m going to tell you of the way you felt that day when I left to walk by the pier and you haven’t seen me since. But it isn’t my place to tell you how to feel. Or where to wait for me when I return. That may have been you, on the far side with the corner torn, faded pink frame. Stand over there, be sure to hide your sorrows; If you could cry all day by the bedside or in the bathroom wherever you are. Be the place to return to. Myself.
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