do not call

no drunk dialling

nostalgia blooms

self pity storms

for all of this is

is a how do you do?

I wouldn’t want to start

the us up all over again

but that’s not to say

in the grey small hours

I’d love to know how life

has treated you

if I ever love someone

there’s always a bit of me embedded

entwined as a poison vine

& if I had a flashing button

all is ok with you

that would be enough to hold

let me forget again

for a little while

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