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The steps moving away from me were innocent These fearful sidewalks were innocent Every day you left with someone new on that bench, it was innocent Yet within everything, you were not innocent. The promises given to me resemble a stopped clock The final breath given before death As if I receive it every day. You asked about my trembling hands I could not tell you about the notebooks written for you You wondered about my pallor I could not say that I dedicated every breath to you. If I spat in y