Children get bigger
But their hearts don’t grow up.
And you’re just as tender as the day I met you.
The night lacked stars.
And you felt you’d gone as far as you would ever go.
The willow tree leaned toward you in the storm,
Like a drunken man, desperate to feel included .
I clung to the sound of the rain against the ironwork on my window.
It numbed the sting of returning the creases of your smile
To the wooden box of memories by my bed.
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