Sunday, June 4, 2017

Eleven

You knew what you were doing,
and I was getting older,
and looked less and less like myself,
less and less like somebody who would be looked at twice,

and you knew that,
but it wasn't the same for you,
so you didn't care,

and you knew that, too
that you didn't have to care,
and that everything would be the same with or without that sentiment,

and I would go on,
into the valley,
and over the hill,
talking about the time we once held hands,

and I was able to make you smile,


that way---

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