I am... mourning.
I am... remembering.
I am... confessing that I did this.
I am not crying.
--
You sent me a message, Zheyne. You sent me a message saying it might be the last you ever send to me, and that you hope I don't hate you.
You said you'd be gone by the end of the week.
I replied, niave, foolish. Asking if the Blue went away, if the music stopped
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