When I woke up today I had a pain in my back--you know, the kind that never lasts. Just this aching remorse. No need to be forceful, I'll crawl back in the sheets, where no one will look for me. So if I die before I wake, I'll know who to thank.
The rain streaked down the windows for the rest of the day, and I could not conjure your face. I was dreaming of the days when I walked home with you--the street so blue, the things that I could never do.
There are a lot of moments that I've lost, but the wash of wet streets continues to list them off. Like: that coat, your hand, the theater, and the band--sinking in no man's land. Bonfires, backyards, basements--pleading: "Please don't go. Your memory means more than you can know."
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