Writing’s another way to say things that you don’t really mean,
Like telling someone the truth
Without ever having to tell it to their face.

But all of my metaphors
Hold the pieces of broken summer memories
From just another year ago.

Writing gets harder as time passes
Because I lose the
Distinct flavor of the times
I used to spend with you.

That night, I
Can no longer remember how brightly the moon shone above us
As you told me “Sorry”
And I
No longer remember quite clearly
If your voice wavered at all.

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