I should’ve known,
How much feelings would’ve have grown,
And leave before it hurts to the bone.
It’s a skill I forget to hone.
Till then I shall be alone,
You will remain my favorite tone.
Writings of a Phobophobe.
I should’ve known,
How much feelings would’ve have grown,
And leave before it hurts to the bone.
It’s a skill I forget to hone.
Till then I shall be alone,
You will remain my favorite tone.
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