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Cleaning House

Would it be alright

If I let go of all these pictures

Of our time together


And kept only a vision of you in the morning

Half-naked in the covers

Smiling to see me

Full of invitation




What would happen

If I threw away the letters

And remembered only the song you sang in the evening

That night it was raining and the lonely thunder made you cry



But what should I do with these poems

That keep on reaching towards you

Widening out like a river before the sea



They keep on asking

If I can see without pictures

If I can sing without music

If I can be happy again

Without you

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