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Home, Not Home

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Published 5 years ago
brick wall
windows like the haunted eyes
of the exiled
no one gets a chance
we fall in and out of love on sidewalks
behind long abandoned train stations
where all the tiny angels
burst into flames only spring understands
some of the sad ones
fell in love and never fell out
some of the beautiful ones
never loved at all
today, in the grey noise
of this city of false renewal
we dream again of that perfect kiss
somewhere that bird rises among us
it rises alone

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