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Ghosts On Vowels

There is no need for conversation in this house;
your words will bounce around the walls 
and then they'll echo in the basement and come creeping into my ears 
just when I hit the bed 
or when the sunlight hits my eyes 
but your words, 
they will linger
when I open my eyes
or when I'm walking to the metro station,
they'll scribble themselves on the last page of my notebooks 
or fit themselves in between the songs I listen to
while I travel to and fro the same routes 
till I hit the bed again. 

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