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Unforgiven

He calls late, his voice a ghost of itself. He’s found another thing, some evidence in some desk drawer, and he wants to know if he was good to me. Who took the photo he wants to know, it’s stamped with a date and a cold stone drops in me; I fucked it up again. I’m marked, there’s always a sniper up above. I’m still in love with you he says though we both know it’s broke. Seconds tick I love you too but he can can hear the difference. The best we both had couldn’t hold and what, you think I can go back? You can’t. Swallow the pit, face front. You can’t ignore the proof; it’ll unearth the crap, the slut I used to be. Do me a favor and throw that shit away I say and there’s an empty laugh …way ahead of you he says, Yeah, I’m way ahead of you.

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