It's nighttime that brings it all back so real. I lay here in my bed and stare at the spot you stood in and looked at me with confusion and horror. Oh God.
And I wonder if it is all over, if we are all over, is this possibly reparable? My hopeful side thinks of your smile, your laugh, drive-in movie theaters and the way my heart jumps and your voice lilts when you call me baby.
But the last time we talked your anger was what I heard the most. The sound of giving up. Oh god. I don't want to lose you.
Could we start again please?
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