When past comes knocking…

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Caught in the past, in the memories, in sometime
are the people, the instances, the things they did that you and I talk about as days pass by.

Like the perfume of a woman
lingering, clinging, reminding
of what she did, she spoke and made you feel as you feasted on her words as the sun went down.

Like a withered old leaf
one that had outlived its time,
the skin sags and wrinkles sprout
but the heart still quivers when the past comes knocking and breaks the door down.

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