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I Call Foul

I haven't felt like talking much lately.
Rather, I've been communicating through music.

I like to pretend that I wrote every song about you. I just close my eyes and cry. Cry for when things were better and worse. A full spectrum of emotions cry that isn't pretty or healing. A sad cry.

And then it all stops like I can't remember what I'm crying for in the first place.

He's in Vermont for work. And all he has to say is 'I miss you' and my heart starts rapidly beating in my chest and throat.

That's how I know he's still fucking got it.

9:32 p.m. - 2012-05-15

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