how different life is

its a quiet night, a quiet night that seeps through the windows. the aching calm, the blistering silence. choice. i chose this quiet night.

but i remember the walk by the river, because tonight i’m reminded. the walk by the river with dancing feet and red flowers down my back green-stripes down yours.

but you won’t remember, you’d sit there and wonder if this is about you. you won’t remember it, as usual, for you are not the sentimental fool.

i remember dreaming a little dream and i remember too little and too much.

so many people get over so much more: deaths. divorces. abandonment. abuse. disability. battery. surely the time has come to stop mopping. (possibly start therapy). surely the time has come to stop. to just stop feeling. to just stop trying. to just stop comparing. to just stop. to. just. stop. stop. stop. stop.

because everything’s going lalabananas for you, i’m happy for you. worried, but happy for you. i no longer feel i know you like i did, and i don’t know whose responsibility it is to bridge the gap; quite honestly.

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Author: c

my world, out of your reach

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