I thought I’d write to you and let you know that I’m still dramatic and sixteen.
I thought I’d call you and tell you that I’m still miserable without you.
I thought I could find you in the bottom of a plastic cup but, like we both know,
nothing ever helps the swelling inside our chests.
There’s nothing left.
So we’ll visit our love like a long lost monument, forever forgotten.
I’m holding on but you won’t hold on for me.
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