Deja Vu
You are deja vu,
and that scares me.
From the day we met,
you have been all in,
as if we had always known each other
as if we always would.
Your words were familiar,
and your idiosyncrasies offered comfort.
I gravitated to you
as we passed each other in the halls,
my eyes following you
as if pulled by your magnetic aura.
I wasn’t looking for attachment,
I wasn’t looking for something known,
I didn’t want your constant presence in my thoughts,
I didn’t want your hauntingly familiar voice.
I told you it couldn’t last;
you thought I was just pessimistic.
You wouldn’t stay away,
and now we’re both suffering
from the heartache I didn’t want.
I didn’t want you to see me this way,
but I’m desperate to share my last breaths
hoping for another future deja vu.
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