Drunk on the street

Dark streets and familiar walks home, I know my steps too well.
The curb I tripped and grabbed your arm, the quiet spot behind the trees.
The path I ran toward your tears.
The home I new and left behind still jumps into my gait.
I turn to stumble into arms that folded now won’t let me in.
You were here with me.
You loved my heavy steps.
Cobble streets or train stop hills, I know these steps too well.
When the shadows reach to grab, ending every day,
I think of night-time running home away from all the pain.

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