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Boiling Chocolate

Shoplifting a new shirt,
because I'm tired of this one.
I wear it, but it doesn't talk.
It shuts up and listens.

I wish we didnt have to think.. you know it makes us so nervous.

Following your girlfriend into town in another car.
You can't stop photographs from flying out of the
window onto the highway, today. 

Maybe he drank alone last night while I was drinking with you.

I was drinking with you and my lips hurt.
Chapped, but it's worth the ache to see them red and
ripe and in the light splash thrown by the rearview of
this car older than my best friend.

The sign says NO OUTLET, but underneath some kids from
the street wrote "Only Beginnings", so it sounds like
the soft side of a suicide note.

I mean, you wrote POEMS about him for chrissakes,
you'd swear some days that that was enough.
But girl, we grow up and we get drunk
and we keep one promise out of a thousand, but it leads us here,
to wearing down the finish on your glasses from 3
months of tears and losing 20 pounds from the numbness
of being a spectator to your own lovelife.

I can figure out time, a way to change you faster.
To fall out of the slow burn of figuring out a way to heal.
This atmosphere does not lick wounds.

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