There's a journey afoot, distances closing on our meeting place.
I feel you think too much, do you feel me.
Confusion surrounds what "this time" means.
Always making amends; never mending.
Snarled faces peak from beaming countenance.
The evidence of love granted for title.
The living room where we played.
Outside, the swing and field.
Simple and charming.
The moments we endure before pain.
That maybe we still are...
Just on our way home.
Coming home.
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