It’s about that time of week again,
When I run into a memory of you.
It’s about that time of year again,
When we find ourselves ignoring across rooms.
And we wonder when this will end.
How much time do we need?
We cover up the wounds and pretend.
Will we be okay tomorrow?
It’s been one long night down here.
Pictures pull at stitches not yet healed.
It’s been six long months down here.
Waves of hatred not meant to be revealed.
I hate you.
I hate you haunting me.
I hate you.
I hate these memories.
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