There’s an incorrect I taste like a cigarette without a chaser, this disconnect feels too direct when all I want to do is embrace her.

That sided smile with its dimple seems like it’s mocking me saying “if only it was that simple.”

The moon hides as the fireworks trigger, I’m wide awake writing these words fighting from admitting how much I miss her.

So wrap your pinky around my finger, promise me this feeling would eventually lose its power to linger.


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