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    intune
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Poems - 4. Sunday

I went to see you one last time,

not knowing,

that I should memorize your face.

Never thinking,

“well, this is it.”

Every Sunday was yours,

and could have been,

should be.

It is sad,

I associate you with a weekday.

I never remember,

is it the beginning,

or the end?

Why do days feel so ordered,

in my weak,

and sad state?

If I had known,

I wonder,

Would life be different?

Remembering your face was

not the problem,

I knew you.

But time,

if only it was kind,

if only for another minute.

One last,

“I love you,”

and trust me,

I still do.

Especially on Sundays.

Copyright © 2012 intune; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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On 01/18/2012 04:08 AM, Michael9344 said:
I think this is the most emotional piece in this collection. I just gotta ask who is he?
This one was pretty hard for me to write. It's about a family member who died, and I never got a chance to say goodbye.
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