That you haven't heard from in a while.
It reminds you of the person that lives
As a different version of your style.
It helps to narrow down the person you are,
And remind you of the things in your past,
That remind you of who you don't want to be,
And of the person you hope will last.
The time that's skipped when you come back from the dead,
And return to where you left off,
May as well have never existed.
The bookend minutes are enough.
And it's alright,
The stuff in between is important too, I guess,
They stop a complete inward collapse,
Of all the moments that are left.
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