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Padding
I fell in love with pretty sentences who had nobody else to love them back.
I fell in love with too many thoughts, the romance of cramming my head full of knowledge.
I am bursting with words, won't someone cradle them for me?
We drive to the library, eat chips on the bench and stare at the moon.
((like thieves, or lovers, or whispering ghosts that love too much too late))
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The title refers to both the quiet sound of steps and padding as in "filler", all the junk that isn't really important.