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I get the distinct feeling that I am forever pining.
It makes me weary, melancholy,but it is often a sweet pain.
Sometimes it creeps up on me at a coffee shop.
Swirling along with the steam from my mug, flashes of another one shared with someone a long time ago.
It follows me down a familiar street, where our carefree spirits roamed.
Our laughter, ennui and immaturity bringing a knowing smile of rememberance.
It seeps out through a familiar handwriting.
Bringing with it black and white peppered pictures of a faceless someone who made reading something somewhere very special.
An old tattered place that was home, grips my heart with familiarity and joy.
The halls echoing with muted shrieks of laughter and admonishment from loved ones,my heart echoing the deafening silence in the absence of those voices.
A rough old weathered hand makes me think of someone who made me, I want to hold on, never let go.
There is happiness all around, fireworks in the sky. Then why is it that there is a corridor in my heart always trapped in the memories of years gone by.

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