In or out of my life, it seems
You will not stay or go.
The past, inconsequential as it flows
Nonexistent throughout my scattered thoughts.
Time is present even if you are not.
Without me are you You as I once knew?
Or shaped by the effects of solitude...
I for one, no matter what you say
Am less of me without you
Unless I think about you
Thereby not without you, in a way.
Out of me you can never go and stay.

The End

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