March 17, 2012
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There is a picture of my good, old friend near my bed.
It's in a frame titled "Memories".
Nothing else can fit that picture but that simple word:
Because my good friend isn't my good friend anymore;
Just an old one, from the past me that isn't me anymore.
The girl in that picture isn't one that I know anymore, either.
She would have no idea who I am if I walked up and said
But I don't talk to strangers.

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