This is how it has to be.

Photos scattered across the floor,
some with edges frayed from
being torn out of an album.

My mobile is just out of reach.
I’d have to move to pick it up, but
that seems like too much work.

It’s tempting. It would be
so easy to pick it up,
write a text.

I still have the number stored –
not us why, maybe because
I’m not quite ready to let go.


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