The leaves haven't changed colors yet, it's september-
you've changed i'm sure, more than just cleaning up your room.
added more names to your fuck list; written more songs about
your town and the one who got away, or ran.
and i keep trying to think nice things
but my heart aches and i know you know that feeling-
you've told me so.
and i keep writing poems about him
in spite
in spite
never in spite-----
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