August 14, 2012
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Oceans. Remember our intrigue with the seashells?
The infatuation was perfect, the piano's melody.
Park. Our idiosyncrasies with the groove in the chains?
Our infatuation for rain, the battling storm.
Rehearsal. The mutual interests we discovered within the art?
Infatuation...we used to have it.
Window. Can you imagine the normal, but strange life?
Fading infatuation, as if it never happened.
Life that used to reflect yours, in it's own way.
The infatuation is a cracked stone heart.
Remember that? The infatuation is folded into itself.
Infatuation within itself.

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