you must be two different people.
because i can't make out your character.
i never could.
you, you, you
touched the small of my back.
catching my hair with the tips of your fingers.
stop killing me.
i was left there, standing,
dying.
it must have took me five minutes to recover.
it's funny how it doesn't hurt when i think about you now.
and now i'm spilling myself out to a keyboard.
see what you've done?
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