Now I’ll count up to ten without a single thought of when I was yours. But ten is still more then I’d ever count before. Now I’ll sleep a couple nights in a week and not be haunted by how we were then, how you’d vow to spend all of april in my sheets. And after I’ve gone, I remember you held on so long. So long. So this is progress. These are honestly steps towards a change. So this progress, and these are promises made for better days. After I’ve gone, I remember what went wrong. So long. So long. So this is progress.
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