The morning after,
seemingly the very same day,
brings joy in my heart,
that is bordering on dismay.
Things that were said,
sometimes left my mouth in wonder.
The sun rise is too harsh to encumber.
I take the morning after,
the good and the bad.
And even though we've made yet another memory,
the nostalgia ultimately makes me sad.
Why, why must I live in the past?
Perpetually grasping for memories that are fleeting,
memories that never seem to last.
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