Hot sticky summers cling to me like wet jeans, and you tug on them because you want what's underneath. We used to be this way, so free and full of laughter, like children with smaller hearts and bigger brains. Do you remember when it changed, when the world infected us with its disease? I think I must have caught it first, and you kissed me, and that was the end for you. Now we stand small and far apart, cold and rigid, just like everyone else. Pillars in this world, but supporting what roof?
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