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blackout.

while you are here, i look at all of your things, strung across this fucking apartment, and it fucking makes my skin crawl.
when you leave, i look at all of your things, still strung across the floor, because i haven't picked them up yet, because i'm scared you will never be back to make another mess. and it makes my eyeballs sweat.

sometimes i find myself questioning all of these decisions. questioning our marriage, praying just to keep our hands off each others throats. but once you are gone, i realize that i was put on this earth to be your cheerleader.
i don't think i could ever find someone else that makes dinosaur noises when he wakes up in the morning. and even if i could, they would never mean as much to me.
i completely worship your molecules.

you are gone.
you might not come back.
and i miss your hairy face.

9:29 p.m. - 2009-05-14

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