painted tragedy

Sugar High Kill
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2010-01-15 07:33:59 (UTC)

Night drive

Some how really late at night when I am all by myself I
think of him. Not in a sexual or a romantic way. In a way
that I miss what could have been, not the non-existent
relationship. I miss the friend. I miss the person who I
could talk about anything with. On the very rare occasion we
hang out I sense he misses that too. Even though we have a
good time together, I can glimpse that he wishes it were
different too. But instead we know it will never be, and so
we part with a hug instead of a kiss and say see you when I do.


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