This path is
strangely familiar,
quite like one
I’ve traveled before
while the situations
are similar
the feelings have
evolved
There are no
desperate words
whispered
this time,
no stars on my
ceiling,
no late night
calls from new york,
no soul that
needs saving,
no muse for me
personified.
I don’t know
anymore
about love
than I did then
only that
it’s not
the path that changes,
nor the
journey,
but the person
walking it.
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