Behind the Signs
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Behind the Signs
The bricks are cold against my back
but not as weighted as the hours spent pretending
that those hours were wasted and meaningless
until you finally left my path for your own
and left me desolate-dirt-road dusted
and so now I wait at the intersection in shadow
as I see your figure coming up the road
and though your face is hidden from my view
I know I must see you again
