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Updated: May 14, 2020

You are standing in front of me 

but only you face is here. 

2 years and 2 months 

of chocolates with nuts, 

pizzas on a Saturday night,

sticky bed sheets 

and bossa nova songs.

2 years and 2 months of 

sexually harassing my mind 

with words, promises and

comfort food. 

2 years and 2 months of 

building a home.

But hey, look:

you burned it down and now

it smells like death, fried chicken 

and smoke. 

There is a replacement of me now

washing the dishes and making the bed,

just like I did and just like how I was 

a replacement of someone else. 

And this is pretty much how

the days will go by

like we are all new actors 

on the same old set

changing furniture around

and the pictures on the walls 

and buying new plants 

that will soon die

and soon will be replaced,

just like everything else 

and you will keep swapping right

in everything that smiles 

with insecurity 

and the burned house 

will be built again 

and you will buy more plants

and more useless antiques 

and you will swap more to the right

and every year of your life

will be another struggle

of fighting yourself.

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