I thought I would feel empty when you
left me,
But first I was angry, and then I was
hungry,
Which sure sounds like myself in my
entirety.
There were no torrents of a downpour
when you left me,
Not even a drop while I was in the
library.
The skies stayed intact, and held their
height, too.
The clouds parted a little, enough to
see the moon,
and I known you'd someday leave me,
though what could I do?
What hurt most, is why gloat without
you?
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