Don’t leave me behind.

When these words try to choke us like whiskey and ice on a Thursday night with dimmed lights and my eyes down to linoleum sights only to let you know I’m always right when I say we’re wrong and we both know it’s us both and we both show signs of wear though these stitches were tight once like our fingers on ice, you can give me that look again. I will not assume the worst this once again. I won’t pretend it isn’t happening but I will listen to that rambling vocal aperture you provide to hone in on what has settled in my heart’s left lower valve like a careful clot. I’ll love you if you leave me not.

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