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I always thought a mile was short,

That I could run and run and never come back.

I never knew I would meet you.

You, almost two hundred and thirty-three miles away.

 

You have the eyes that don’t see most colors, and yet you still see me.

You see my flaws and you’re still here.

You see it all and you’re still here;

Through those two hundred and thirty-three miles.

 

And I think,

How the hell did I get so lucky?

And then I ask myself,

Why do you have to be two hundred and thirty-three miles away?

 

Anytime my mind wanders,

I think of you.

I think of all the wonderful things we could do.

Those things we can’t do because we’re two hundred and thirty-three miles away.

 

Sometimes though, I’m afraid.

Now, why would I be afraid?

I’m afraid that one day you might wake up and forget me.

Because I’m two hundred and thirty-three miles away.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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