6/19/2018 backtrackingbacktracking through visions of us.
from the first time, your fathers eyes under rows of fluorescents to uneaten plates in run-down diners to hazy nights in the middle of the street to empty bottles in my driveway, begging the man in the moon to bring you back to me, from that night by the lake to broken dance halls, from cop cars to dressing rooms, I never stopped loving you. Comments are closed.
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