But that doesn't help me, dear.
For though I tore myself from you,
I miss you more each year.
I love the way you smell, sweetheart,
And all the sounds you make.
I wish that we were not apart,
As soon as I'm awake.
The day I left, I felt no strife,
To go our separate ways.
And though I'm happy with my life
I think of you most days.
Occasionally I wonder if
I'll be with you again.
I hope that we can mend this rift,
But, dear, I don't know when.
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