you always thought you’d write never put pen to paper too much time rambling swimming in the ocean The world you imagined was never your own — now left wondering why no-thing made you ever care at all.
so in the spring, darling, where will we be? waiting for the same weekly bus or swimming in a new stream? as childhood dreams get left at the station how far will you hitch on your long, lonely road? do you stop for the first fellow traveler? or keep eyes on horizon drive into a wide new sunset
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