I'm off tonight, but left it right
inside the pages creased.
And though I read beyond your sight
and breath of the deceased.
Still I see the flashes of the calm
before the storm.
When spreading out the ashes of
a time that kept me warm.
I left it there and cleared the air
inside your finished book.
I cannot grasp that ending here,
but dared I crept a look.
Still I see the morning as I wake
to curse this gift.
When dwelling on the break
that shifted me into this rift.
I'm here today, but gone away
inside the pages worn.
For when I drifted to that day
this nightmare was reborn.
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