no longer beaming

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if i could see you;
if i could be with you again...
i remember when you ran your hand
down my face; the good old days.

i'm no superhero, but i always stood by your side;
i watched our universes collide;
my arms always wide open.
did you know that i was noting
down everything?

a dozen notebooks a year;
i guess it's fair to say i'm obsessed
and possessed by an artistic demon.
my kettle steaming, but the mind is no longer beaming.

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