ignore me, convince myself you're just creating suspense,

like come over baby, speaking in lala land as if we weren't past tense,

staring out my window, maybe you'll come walking down those stairs,

out of all that concerns you, i occupy precisely none of those cares,

a classic fuck you, because i'm simply too tired,

all the interpretations correct, such crappy poems you've surely inspired,

you are the same as nothing, minus the inside of my mind - what dumb luck,

still staring out my window,

caressing the flower of time, pedals we all - especially i - can't help but pluck.

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