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"the way the summer air always hangs too hot above me; too close, even at night.
makes me think of you and the sight of your body pressed up against mine.
ears to chests keeping time.
the way ink on already ruined bed sheets looks.
sneaking out open windows to god knows where just to see your eyes light up underneath the july moon.

i did cry.
and i'm not going to lie, not to you.
i mean, you can pretend this is about somebody else to your heart's content. who's going to stop you? i'm certainly not.
it hurt when you stopped wanting me; stopped missing my absence.
or perhaps it didn't hurt until i realised. concerning myself with the time zones of emotional relays is neither relevant nor helpful.

i guess you thought you were doing me a favour. not ever one to cut the tie and just let it all fall away.
rather let yourself, me, and our memory fade like the stars at dawn. though we too shone just as brightly. brighter.

i miss your phone calls. i miss the tri-tone that you chose yourself to let me know whenever it was you.
it's always you. it always will be.
and i know that's not true, not even nearly.
we'll grow old, i'll grow up and the calendar will rob us of both memories and bitterness.
you'll find love in another, hold them in the same way, speaking between pillows and kisses to the neck.
i will come to be at peace. whether it will be with another or in other ways entirely, i do not know.
but know that within the labyrinth of my mind, these things will always be us:
summer and pink and orange, pen on skin and the key of d major, black umbrellas and neon night lights, headboards of king-sized beds and the rooftops of hotels.

i hope you sleep well tonight.
and don't you ever pretend you forgot about me.

i love you...

or perhaps

...i loved you
-p.w "

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