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If they didn�t hurt, they would have called them something else.

More garbage, more dumping.

I feel like I need to get all of this out so it�s not hanging over my head tomorrow, and I can really start over with a new day, in a new year.

I know I can�t really, because everything follows you, but for however long it takes me to write this entry, I�m going to believe I�m getting rid of it. Pushing it into this box, so I can close it up, finish it off.

Everyday that passes that my presence has not been felt by you makes me afraid. Every time I realize how beautiful you really are, I want to keep you all to myself. Every sound that makes me hope also makes me cringe.

If lips grace yours tonight at midnight, if tongue traces tongue, and hand finds shoulders, finds cheek bones, finds jaw lines. If breath finds ears, finds necks, finds words.

I want it to be me. I want you to think of me, it hurts to say it, and I said it aloud to hear it. I want it to be me.

I don�t want you to kiss someone else, and the same person that thought that wishes you would, but only if you think of me.

Pick my laugh out of the crowd, imagine I�m there, because I can almost see it and I don�t know what to look for. I know that no matter what happened, if I watched you, I would feel my heart beat in my throat, and that familiar sense of pride would come.

If I wasn�t here thinking these things, I�d be out looking for your lips. Searching for your voice. Turning my neck, watching the door, waiting for your roaming eyes.

I want you to look for me, even though I�m sitting here. I wish you could wonder if that passing grey car was mine, if that swish of brown hair belonged to me, if the flash of teeth and lips could have been for you.

More than anything, I wish you could say it.

I�ll just say my prayers
And I just light myself on fire
And walk out on the wire once again

Good Night. I mean it this time.

9:25 p.m. - 2002-12-31


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