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It has occurred to me, At 2:20 That you’re not coming back.
I was delusional for ever thinking such things.
Did you want to hold my hand, Or to be able to slide a hand past fabric?
Was it me you loved, Or the idea of falling in love?
It’s 3:27 And I thought it was still a quarter to eleven.
Thank you for playing a game we all like to play.
Illusions and lies. Lips and thighs, Oh your brown eyes.
How I would fall for them all over again, If you were to be back.











