Love used to live on hope street,
But she moved away.

Now the days are long
And the nights even longer.

So, I moved into her house on hope street,
Just to remember her once more.

The memories were lucid,
I knew they would last forever.

So, while she was away,
I slept in her bed, ate her food, wore her perfume.

Talked in her voice
Laughed like she would 
And then I cried all alone.

Looked out the window a time or two,
Hoping the horns were the sound of her car.

Love used to live on hope street
...But not anymore.

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Photo by KEEM IBARRA on Unsplash

Published by Richard Oti

Give me a paper and a pen, and I'd take you around the world.

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  1. Oh man this one is depressing but super real!! I love how u described loves proximity and enjoyed the “house”/ comforts of it while there was still hope in your mind 🙂 the imagery of thorns were classic. And the “imatation” of love without there actually being any??. Maybe I’m thinking to deep about it buts this piece speaks volumes!! Lol

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