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Third mailbox from the right
Dear you,
If for every time you touched me
I had a dime
My pocket would spill
The coins would roll
To the edge
I'd go to the edge with you
They teeter on the edge of reality
Until we wonder if it's real
If I could touch you whenever I needed to
We'd never be apart
If I could grab the collar of your jacket
And yank you down the hall
Like I used to
That old jacket would have imprints
Where my fingers go
If you could tell me I was beautiful
Whenever I knew I wasn't
I'd be pretty always
If those heirlooms weren't faded
And we could read the words
They'd assure us
That what we had was forever
But they were faded
And we never did see them
Just wore them
Let them encircle us
Meaningless words
Filled with meaning
We didn't see it
You don't see it
We can't see it now
And our dimes are few
They're in my pocket
I finger them
Waiting for them to come alive
And tell me something
And I don't touch you anymore
We're apart
That old jacket of yours
Has the collar turned up
So you're not reminded
It wouldn't matter
And I'm never beautiful
No one tells me
I wouldn't care
Those rings we got
They're faded
Never read the words
Never tried
We should've tried
Gone are the words, the ring, the everything
It rolls
Teeters on the edge of reality
Until we wonder if it's real
It doesn't seem real
Those old faded things
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