Sometimes the idea that you will not come
back to me pops in my head. Rarely.
I have to swallow it down quickly. My eyes
want to sting and my stomach always
decides the best thing to do is throw up
when I think of it. You said in a
letter that you wanted me to act as if
there were no chance of us getting back together.
Well, okay. I can act. Just please
don't make me comprehend.

There is no next musing yet.
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