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there's something cruel about our timing. i know you might think i had my chance, but you were unfair and didn't tell me the whole story. and now we skirt around it, both wondering and never direct. but you won't waste a moment to pause and ask, you just want things to happen. i can't see you being patient the way i would need. but isn't it obvious how hopelessly mad you've made me? and now i wonder, are we even friends?
how can i still feel this intoxication with years passed
you continue to find someone new, never waiting to fill the role of your admirer. you know i'm here, i wish you'd just give me a moment to catch my breath. and the worst part of this is, im the worst writer i know- venting into the void hoping this poet who gave me a zine two years ago will just, give me a chance.
but, i already know
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