You broadcast your good deeds from across the globe, and I am left with your self of today and your self of yesteryears to reconcile. So proud, so angry, so done, so wanting to restore the relationship we once had. Is this a pattern? Two, or too many? I don't think of him much, but you are still here sometimes, and we flirt with intimacy like fireflies in the night. I can forgive but not forget, and it seems like you will settle for nothing less than both.
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