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And you be boy, and I'll be girl and...

You said
To write you a song
So here
This is for you

It's not a secret. Silly, silly boy.

I've recently found I'm a mass grey area. I've spent so many years keeping everything clean. Neat lines, in the lines, black and white. Always. Even down to my clothes, I gravitate towards black, lean towards white.

So here I sit, disillusion myself, I've turned into a blur, of an undistinguishable shade that may pass, just a shadow of something else.

And I see you, black or white. These acts of kindness [Jen, you lovely creature.] White. Someone else's darkness, that I can step into. Black.

If you touch your foot at the right moment, before it falls asleep, it feels like someone else's hand. I'm learning these new tricks as I learn how to be more and more alone. And I can see how people can go so long without anyone. Funny, I think something is putting me in my place. The less fucked up I get, the smaller my chances at a hand on my foot. Just earlier, I thought how I just have never had this problem. Even if I had a boyfriend, I had three waiting. Three kept in the wings of flirtation, just enough. My crushes had crushes back, and my hips moved.

I've lost the base to my step. I've become a poorly written pop song.

I need a remix.

Everyone is waiting for the timing to be right
And we hope it's coming soon
So just rest your eyes and then
You'll be in love again

7:02 p.m. - 2003-06-09

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