oblivion

he thinks that i tell him to listen to certain songs
because they are melodious

he doesn’t know that all of the songs remind me of him;
and i listen to those songs when i am at my loneliest

he thinks that it’s my first time hearing and laughing
to the stories he tells me

he doesn’t know that i’ve heard them many times before
and i wouldn’t mind listening to them for a thousand more

he thinks that i would have probably gotten
accustomed to his presence

he doesn’t know that when i see him i still get butterflies;
his very existence is my favourite present

~

i listened to this track while writing this poem:

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