I liked myself a lot better when I wasn't thinking about you,
you were not a necessity,
you were fringe,
and had been since as long as I can remember,
and sometimes,
late at night,
I would imagine what you were thinking when our fingers were intertwined,
until I didn't,
until I liked the look of the moonlight from alone in my room,
I liked a lot of things on my own,
pride of authorship, maybe,
things that didn't belong to you,
or anyone but me really,
you were a leech,
and then a thief,
more trouble than you were worth,
and now you're nothing,
nothing at all
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