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I said I cared for our shared history, and meant it -
The scent of you, still stuck on my tongue -
The taste of you in my ears ; assuring me taste is the right word.
I want to push forward because I know through studied history, memories fade.
I spoke in run-on sentences of running away
Yes I did, I remember it.
But in all those suppositions I assumed you,
Would keep running too.
I've lived a little life in a big house on the prairie
When every sense of you seemed fixed on a dream of the city.
Your green eyes wanted nothing so much as a skyline
And though down to my rural roots I feared feeling smaller
I never told you that,
No, I would have remembered it
Then in January when the year was still young enough for hope
You swore off discussing the past;
And I knew then, I understood.
You'd done something worthy of running away from.
We walked on beds of dead and dying flowers
During a dead and dying hour -
And you said you were sorry -
I only wish you really meant it.
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