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Kelsey Amell
Seven feet high, 
He's the stride along this greying street of mine
and I keep close beside.
As much as it may seem so,
he was never too far away for me to hold
as he mustered up ashes when thrown only cold.
His black tuxedo
and his black belt supporting those trousers, 
matching those fancy dress shoes they hover above.
Look deeper and his eyes aren't so light, either.

A complete lack of pigment
besides his brightened purple bowler cap.
I remember his far lean down to say "Goodbye"
The brush of my cheek,
followed by a sweet peck, so sly.

Still, I feel him here
by my side in that vacant desk I beg teachers to leave vacant.
Always in my periph in mirror's views,
reach out to touch, and wait for his que-
That when I leave this place
he'll be following close in perfect pace.

I ignore the features of my normality becoming erased.
As he becomes distant, how much will I face?
I scream in my sleepless antics
while he was the one to never abandon,
but only feed my grace.
The one to know and shape-
All I'll see
All I'll ever be
All I am
Though I thank him for dodging my embarassment
I really don't give two shits about
As he came along time and time again.
Then I came to notice our moments have become less
in my past years of adult life.

He's only in my head,
so why does he seem so dead?
It's my turn to ask him
"What's wrong?"
My responsibility to guide him now....
I need his breath on my neck again.