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it was a dry winter he sang *** and candy" as i braided my hair we'd never dwelt so far apart oceans between us while sharing a bed he bought me rain-boots for christmas desert dwellers have little use for rain-boots at the end of december but i smiled because it didn't matter he could never see me only aknowledged the static space i inhabit his empty eyes sang symphonies in the silence we were young and the world refused to cease it's spinning despite our sea-sick cries while faking love even the rustiest carousels chase their tails long after the waiting line is rendered empty after dusk the secret to life inside our discarded cigarette cartons the history at the bottom of the beer pitcher it was our hell our own private galaxy doing pirouettes on the sidelines of time we aged like newspapers hidden in the hedges but we meant it or at least we thought we did whatever it was we meant it the way that one means it when they say they wished they'd died the morning after dollar beer night it felt right no matter how bad it always hurt
0
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 11:48 PM UTC
the history at the bottom of the beer pitcher.
it was a dry winter he sang *** and candy" as i braided my hair we'd never dwelt so far apart oceans between us while sharing a bed he bought me rain-boots for christmas desert dwellers have little use for rain-boots at the end of december but i smiled because it didn't matter he could never see me only aknowledged the static space i inhabit his empty eyes sang symphonies in the silence we were young and the world refused to cease it's spinning despite our sea-sick cries while faking love even the rustiest carousels chase their tails long after the waiting line is rendered empty after dusk the secret to life inside our discarded cigarette cartons the history at the bottom of the beer pitcher it was our hell our own private galaxy doing pirouettes on the sidelines of time we aged like newspapers hidden in the hedges but we meant it or at least we thought we did whatever it was we meant it the way that one means it when they say they wished they'd died the morning after dollar beer night it felt right no matter how bad it always hurt
Sparrowfreckles
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Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 11:48 PM UTC
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