During the summer,

I used to come home to you

but now it’s only your echo.

I’ve tried to wrap myself in you

so I can sleep tight, it’s no use,


you stand behind me at my desk,

sit in the kitchen whilst I cook.

Sometimes I think you’re haunting me

but they are just memories.


Now, I come home to a warehouse

of everything we’ve done.

The walls we built are crumbling

flooding the house.


You never were a great swimmer,

I’m worried we’ll drown.

-Alex W.


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