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desole
    It's really cold tonight and naturally I'm thinking of you. I'm thinking of all of our long walks at night, all of our conversations. You were the last person I've told absolutely everything to you. I'm wondering if you're cold, wherever you are. I wonder if you have any hope. I wonder if you've had your trial and if you're going to go to prison for a very long time. There's so much I wish I could have shared with you. How getting sober and straight isn't the worst thing that could happen, to either of us. How things really can change. How maybe, after it's all been raging on, maybe you'll have one of those nights when you stare up at the stars and realise you're alive after all. And you'll just want to go back in time and hug yourself for all of that time you wasted thinking you might be dead. Every pair of green/blue eyes I see I think of yours. I know we'll meet again someday and I won't give up on you, no matter what anyone says. I've faced temptation and it's not triggering to me anymore. If I need to, I can just play the piano on my knees. But you need someone. And, after all, I've shared so much with you, really. Sickness, madness, withdrawal, desire, secrets, so many cigarettes.

    If I could I would shrink myself / sink through your skin to your blood cells / Remove whatever makes you hurt / But I am too weak to be your cure.





 
 
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