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“is it love?”
your mother asks you
as you dance around the kitchen
beaming as bright as the moon
“or is it just to have someone?”
your mother asks you
as you cry to him over the phone
hiding away in your room
in a few months,
he’ll be gone
he'll be so far away
in a few months,
you'll still be here
alone and insecure
the years will pass by slowly
each one harder than the last
patience wearing thin
every minute of every day
you'll spend missing him
with every fiber of your being
and once those years are over
and nothing is left standing in your way
you'll follow him across the world
“is it love?”
your mother asks you
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