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The Table (Poem)

Sitting here in the café where we first met
brings back so many memories
that shake the table,
making its presence known,
as I have a meltdown.

This makes me wonder,
what it must feel like for you,
do you see my silhouette in the window,
or do you smell my fragrance in the wind?
I try to turn the corner
when a bitter memory resurfaces,
as I treat it as if it were a monster.

Sitting here at this table,
the shaking quickly fades away,
leaving me staring at the empty space
in front of me.

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