Sunday, November 13, 2011


It’s hard
putting down these
words as poetry because,
truthfully, I never found your
charming, cunning, inspiring wit to be
fair to me. Nevertheless, it relentlessly builds
up until I shamefully, honestly, adamantly refuse
holding the aforementioned words in. When they begin
piling up, I unmercifully suffer silently, futilely attempting to
forget you. Frustratingly, I remain tormented by your memory, and
suddenly the unrelenting, never-ending words pour out and out and out and
all of the mafia games we leisurely played together conglomerate haphazardly into

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