I was in love with the way
you chose your clothes for the day.
We were too young to pretend
it was not a dead end.
Did all the time that passed us by
open the wounds you used to hide?
Or are you still the strongest boy
as strong as you were when she died?
Do all the roads we skated on
still remind you of the songs
that placed our hearts inside a box
labeled ‘before we got lost’?
I was in love with the way
you chose your clothes for the day, based on how bad they smelled.
We were too young to pretend
it was not a dead end, I thought you’d be there too.
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