don't swerve. i'll stand here till my mouth is a crack in your windshield. i'll carve out a map of my secrets concealed. i am an open book, judged by my trash covered content. a novel idea about my best of times spent. so stop the hot presses and tape this headline on your story. "forgotten word-weaver raped of his glory." they were the hot
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i effing miss you, a lot.
i see you around here and there,
but we haven't actually hung out in a while.
we really need to do something, soon!
<333me
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:)
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