my hips are sore
but my heart is worse
i miss the late night calls
to make sure "you're still here"
you always were.
but i could never stay
it's not you, it's me
i love the idea of you
but your idea of me
isn't reality
too many missed calls
my guilt blooms just as frequently as my head aches
but nothing good will come of it
just crossed lines (minds) and hearts
that were never meant to be untangled
knots of love
i'll die wrapped in them
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