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I watch her outline hang lavender laundry

on a rooftop of a five-storey block,

tangerine clouds lingering 

a moment too short.

She pegs the last garment

slightly overlapping 

a pair of denim skinny jeans,

then I watch as her sunset silhouette disappears 

behind an antenna-lined wall.

No one left 

but the declining sky and I.

Remember how that once used to paralysed me whole:


being alone. 


But the thing is,

it only feels right now.

The evening lights are waltzing between my eyes,

my lips mouthing love letters 

in an amber stained sight:

unapologetically, devotedly, 

my reflection is smiling back at me.