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February 11, 2007
our room is half painted.
you said it had character; in an unfinished, naked, raw kind of way. if it were a person, you said it would have wide, wet eyes. i found you sitting there one afternoon, staring at the wall.
with someone you had created and clothed, a girl with wide, wet eyes.
you are smoke and mirrors,
the opposite of east and july. we played a liar's game of chess, with missing pieces. there were bones and buttons where your knights should have been. that game was drawn.
i will never hate you, or trust you.
a good muse only causes pain.