You left
too soon,
as if
we were
a party
you
stopped at
only briefly
before
heading out
to the evening’s
real event.
We keep
searching
for your face
among those
still here,
turning
at your
phantom touch,
hearing
your voice
call
our names
from across
the room.
Why
do they keep
dancing?
Don’t they
know
you’re gone?
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