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The painting on the living room wall

an ancient parisien street

But never have you actually looked at it

Never really wanted to

But sitting there with empty moments to fill

you look

study it, count the colors, figure out

what seems to be happening

The moments and minutes

float by

And soon you depart the room

and realize as you walk away

that the painting is a blur–nothing

all you can remember is feeling

so alone and lost

without her

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