This space is mine.
While you take yours, withdrawing from my room,
I will make room for myself, and hope.
Although hope is hard to hold tonight.
Tonight is not unlike many others,
Churning yesterday and the day before
Over and over until worn and blended;
A barely noticable scar.
And who can blame you, when it's timing at fault.
I'd done the same to you, there's proof.
And your excuse is better than my
Dissapearing act. And our reasons are nearly the same,
Or so I can hope.
And hope that timing will find it's place,
Sometime around the corner of the coming season.
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