There were pangs of bereavement coming from me,
spewing from my chest,
and later in the evening,
I was convinced that if I surgically removed my innards,
and buried them here with you,
then I could erase all the hollowness that had survived,
We had been empty for quite sometime,
you and me,
unable to agree to disagree on the necessities of nostalgia,
it was a quagmire for me,
quicksand,
death to progression,
and for you,
it was nothing much,
certainly nothing to lose sleep over,
so we dug ourselves our own graves,
until we were side by side by side,
and underwhelmed enough to go our separate ways
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