Want to hear something corny?
Something corny is lying on my bed during a windy 18 degree Celsius Saturday evening with these thoughts of you clamped like thumbscrews inside my head.
How about something cornier?
Something cornier is having those thoughts of you swoon and waltz to the rhythm of my exhausted and laboured breathing. The idea of you clinches the individual nuts that hold my sanity together. Like a vice grip, slowly spinning, and turning, and twirling and whirling sporadically through intricate motions yet irretrievably bound to its axis.
A recurring flash of familiar hindsight. A daydream cycle. You, you, you. Is something cliché even if it is the truth?
How about something sad?
Something sad is living off these memories of you every day until the dying light. Something sad is holding hands with you while lying on this bed during this sweltering 64 degree Fahrenheit Saturday night.
Something sad is prying your fingers off, as I break mine holding on to these thoughts, ideas, memories, and histories that was and never will be.


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