Tuesday, July 12, 2011

1988

I am not in this picture.

That girl is not me.

I've met her, but she never likes me, at
first. 

Sometimes, I grow on her.
Sometimes, not. 

I am probably still at home,
obligated. Eternally third place.

I still look for signs that you miss me.
Find none.   
Why did I never notice, before?

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