If you would just stop drunk dialing me, or maybe if we didn’t have so many mutual friends, I’d be able to move on after 6 months. But now you’re here, at this party, and I don’t know how I can get away without falling apart. Until I see you when I’m getting my coat and you have to tell me what you’ve been thinking and how you’ve been doing. Cover image by AJS1 from Pixabay
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