And maybe this is only difficult to understand because we remember the way things once were. We remember the people we could be and that third person we love so much. All of our secrets still dance across wires in strange ears and the whispered lyrics that fought nightmares continue lingering for the shadows to sing and your ghost to feast. And we could talk the way we used to, we could love, and we could dream, but every time I call you answer just to breathe on the line, just to know that I made it through another day. But by doing so you are begging our memories to kill me piece by piece. Again.
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