you get nightmares every tuesday
about the time he rested his hands on your
cheek and really looked at you and every
sunday you're reminded of how it felt to be
trapped between him and his mangled
cotton bed sheets and mondays are the
worst because you can only think about
that saturday when you told him you hated
him and you can still smell the sadness in
his eyes (he was flying, you were crashing)
-this wasn't the love you thought you wanted
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