I heard echoes. They sprawled all across the gravel tube. Life didn't care that she was standing next to me. My natured paranoia was a rampaging beast; nonthing was safe.
She stood there, longer than ever before; always just passing by, through - going and going, but I gaver her chances, every chance that leeches twitch when blood falls. Her skin never broker. My thoughts always missed it was because she had already turned her head away from, and the day away from THAT moment.
But it's never about one particular moment, but the collection of moments in between jealousy turbulence and regretful emptiness. Now, we should never mistake regret for learning. Everyday, there will be a new punch in the face or tickling fingers.
I don't wait very long, and I play second to no one, not even THAT moment. It doesn't hurt more than it continuously tries to awaken you with gentle backhands, but after a couple or more sets, until it infuriates someone.
But tonight, she kept looking. Her words curved intenionally, with my labeling of "buddy", and something so horrible I've forbidden its embedment within my mind. I know it wasn't the f-word. I don't think it was the f-word.
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