Confused by the streetlight then the moon,
some truth shows that lies just between the two. Both
lighting
what looks to be a slice of arctic
where I’d
slide for years
conversing with the
mistakes that led me here—
I realize your voice was never as true as this.

Though your lips formed the right way for sounds,
in empty schoolyard
nights
where my footprints never
leave themselves
for finding,
I dreamt of a better you.

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