old love songs crackle through the radio and dreams crackle through the mind. like thousands of tiny hands punching the back of eyes until they are forced to cry.
remember.
a ripped dress. a skinned knee.
blood on the floor and a struggle over peroxide.
messages you only read in the morning. if only you had found them.
.
messages you only read at night. remind you.
tomorrow it's black coffee for two.
and you haven't ridden that bicycle since.
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