“Alive?”

Is it possible that you think about me as much as I think about you?

Haunting your corridors,

Your bed sheets,

Your passenger seat?

 

Do I reside at every breakfast,

Hanging like steam over every cup of coffee?

 

Am I sitting right there across from you,

Eyes begging to know,

Where is the real me?

Where’s my body?

Why aren’t I here?

 

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