I would have given up any day, every day, to spend one day in truth
the closest someone got to your perceptive nature was knowing not to speak of you
my war wound
turned battle scar
you were with me in every dream at night it just made the days hard to get through
and when you looked for me all you knew to do was draw a heart with my pen
I could not grasp not a single thing else but felt as if I knew you right then
one day, out of three hundred and sixty five
you've probably forgotten it all now but I was hardly alive
it was everything
I will leave it at all
I remember you telling me
that you would never forgive me, and never take me back
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