the landscape here
remains unchanged
on the surface
a painting of how
life ought to be
never was
painted in points of color
that freeze time
and make it seem
as if she might walk out
from one side or the other
when all that ceased to exist
long ago
and All that remains is the memory
of it dashed by the feelings
we keep treasured even when
they also ceased to
be real
this train passes
places
she used to walk near
the ferry terminal where
I last saw her from a distance
a ghost then more so
now
tearing the frail fabric
of this thing we live through
time and space
bending
from the gravity of our lives
the weight of the world
on our shoulders
the history that is no more
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