You could scatter me that glance
That appeared like the unhappy ending
To a holiday romance,
Born of waves, washing over our toes
And laid to rest with a parting rose.
You can produce that smile in a mind
All bittersweet like a photo of an ex
Bookmarking a chapter
That neither of us has read.
I feel your dust in the folds of my wallet
As I fumble for change.
You're a memory of age.
And living's no longer the same.
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