a letter to the friend who made home somewhere else

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I haven't seen your face in years,
Save for pictures,
But I remember you like you were home.
Home,
Down the street,
Around the corner,
Down the path,
And a few blocks down,
Stop before I hit the fence.

I haven't been there in years,
And the grass beyond has been uprooted.

I don't want to talk about all that was:
Hiding,
Laughing,
Falling.
I wrote this for another reason.

Because I haven't seen your face in years,
Save for pictures.
In these pictures you look happy.
Like you've found heaven on earth,
And you're just as beautiful as I always thought you were,
Though now you are older.

But the more I see you smile, the more I ache inside.

I haven't seen your face in years,
And I can't remember the last word you said to me.
I'm sure everyone has heard about the one that got away,
But I wonder if they mean it for friends, too.
I could've fought harder,
Missed you more,
Or maybe less.

As much as I know I never had any claim on you,
I clinged to the things you left behind.

Maybe everyone has someone who got away,
And maybe you were mine.

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