not about love

by elizestrydom

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I will write your name

on the trees, on the sand, on the snow

but this is not about us.

Walking through new streets

my mind carried home but I’m not there

and this is not about us.

Still night, warm thoughts

can’t be found

no, this is not about love.

(First two lines lifted from ‘Liberté’ by Paul Eluard then switched around.)

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