Scattered

It’s funny how we scattered
After our long goodbyes;
Protesting that we’d stay in touch,
And brook no alibis —

But nothing is as simple
As things that we don’t do;
And so you never called me:
No more than I called you.

It’s funny how we promised
And meant the words we said,
But still went on our scattered ways
To other things, instead —

And so, within this empty space,
I’ll take another breath:
For every promise broken
Is just another

Death

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