I haven’t written poetry in forever, thought it would be theraputic

8 years passed.

I didn’t forget.

I could be a different woman right now.

In a different place

With a different life

Who knows if it would feel wrong

Who knows, it could’ve felt right

I don’t feel lost everyday

Anymore

But sometimes it strikes me

How strikingly

Another face could have been yours

Wait

I do feel lost every day still

Because there’s always a reminder

Everybody else has what I want

But its generic, not real

Even when I have it

It’s not going to be you

I read your story

From a perspective of a stranger

I wrote it

You wouldn’t know me these days

Anyways

And I wouldn’t know you

You’re stuck as flutterbug forever

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