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May 2017
my body was shaking as you explained to me why we shouldn't talk anymore. i stopped listening at some point and i thought back to the night where we slept on an air mattress that was deflating the more that we moved. it was deflating the longer we stayed, but we figured it was more comfortable than sleeping on the floor. i thought back to the morning where you wouldn't let me walk out your front door, because you couldn't help but to try to improve the last kiss. you couldn't help but to try to improve the last time we'd see each other before this conversation. i thought back to the night we first met. you were sitting in an empty room adjacent to where people you were not familiar with were taking up too much space. i was afraid to enter your space. i was afraid to introduce myself. i was afraid. im still afraid. im afraid that all these memories are going to become feelings that i wish i could have back. i realize that they already have. you say my name. i realize i haven't said a word in several minutes, and i try my best to recall what you've said, and i can't. i say "that may be the best thing." You tell me that you're glad i think that way too. you walk away, and that's the last time ive seen you since.
i want to go back.
Brad Tuck
Written by
Brad Tuck  Buffalo, NY.
(Buffalo, NY.)   
327
 
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