Everyday to pass the time, I sing this song. And now as I compose it, the notes arrange like this.
From the start we fall, but know better than to spoil it, taking care not to cover up the path we’ve stumbled upon. We forget to tell the stories we usually tell, of old hurts no one could hope to mend. Simply we enjoy new company as we play sports in the park. We find a bench by the lake and drink from a flask one of us brought. We take a walk, and the sun sets.
Though we do not fall into bed. Instead we later agree it was fortuitous, and less ominous than our old dates, to have kept our hands almost to ourselves. We have nervous moments of waiting instead. But even in waiting, in the exposed spaces where spears used to run us through, we are…
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