Sometimes, I talk to you about what we dont have. Then, you'll ask, "How could you stand me? I don't know why you're with me." But I secretly wish you honestly know why. But then I ask myself, "How did we end up here?" I forget how, too. Or maybe I don't actually need to remember. Because I realise it doesn't really matter. And because what we have between us, noone can give me that.
i cwab you.
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