Every other day I rearrange this room
I live in a place I call home
And yet without you here it feels like a tomb
I search for a picture in the routine
To illustrate my yearning for something unseen
Caught in this waiting game of survival
Am I living or dying for the dream?
Photographs taken to canvas these walls
At the sight of you my countenance falls
Keeping myself occupied in the off time
My delay of the inevitable, as weeks begin
I come and go and rearrange this room all over again...
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