Stupid love songs.

Medium Old.

Hard to stay awake at times.
On the other side, watching cars pass by.
Still the same, cold without you.
Moving on, drifting away-love
how we got so into it.
And it just makes you sick that,
we never did finish the conversation.
But I'm still sitting at the table, and
I'll sit here all night if it means
It's five a.m. and you're still not home.
And if it means all I got left are
those friends and a dial tone.
Can still hear those songs from the piano.
There vibrations groan across the title floor,
and I'm here, spread across my bed with
Layers and layers of memories that shallow my breathing.
I won't beg you to come back and
I'll use my last breathe to tell you this isn't sacrifice at its best.
Remember growing up, we said we wouldn't be influenced by

stupid love songs.

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