The Dead Relation

October 27, 2009
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I believed you.
I trusted you.
I thought you loved me.

We sat together;
We kissed,
Next to the flowers,
Under that tree,
On that hill.
It was a special place.

People saw us as a perfect match.
I loathe the word perfect.
Everyone is always next to perfect,
Cause no one is ever perfect,
But always trying to be perfect.

I run into.
You just pass me.
You promised to write love letters,
You stopped after 2 weeks.

So what’s her name?
Once I now that,
I will disappear forever.

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