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i miss him the way the tide misses the moon. i crave for him to lift me one more time. his mom’s brownies, his odd dog, his brother’s truck, his dad’s laundry. his room, his scent. he stopped drawing. i know him no longer. i can’t speak on this to anyone: not a soul can know.
i fear death and distance. in two years, we’ll be thousands of miles apart: right now only one. i stop myself every-time. i could just wave at him, give him a smile. i want to say to him what i keep to myself. i want to tell him that he’s been the most important part of my life and i respect him and his girlfriend and all i want is to be friends for the short time we have left.
pride’s a nasty thing. it fills the both of us. my pride stops me everytime from approaching; it’ll just fuel his. i want to suck it up. my middle ground; best friend and twin flame. true blue. a walking tombstone of memories and secrets.
he’s a hideous being. sexualizing, manipulating, narcissistic. but aren’t we all?
i’ll write a book for you one day. i promise you that, my shooting star.
i’m an empty shell in your absence.
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