Thursday, July 9, 2009

123;

you were in a drunken stupor when you returned; your sweatshirt hood shadowed what i missed. you barely noticed me. you noticed that i was there, but not that you used to love me. you walked crookedly and i followed you to a playground. it must have been the one where i fell. you sat, leaning against a post and i was left to lean against the fact that you were not the same.

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