sometimes there are other people

I used to close my eyes and see only you.

In different ways of course, but always, only you.

Now it’s been six weeks and I don’t see you as much.

You’re still there, I know you are.

But now other things are too.

Sometimes other people,

your smile,

the music,

and everyone dancing.

The novels,

Paris,

Paris at night

and in the morning.

I see the drinks I’ve made

and the drinks I’ve drunk

and the dreams I’ve had.

Sometimes I see him and it’s strange.

I wonder what you see-

who you see-

now, too.

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