Another Brush It Off

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We were walking the river

holding hands

when she told me

some guy kissed her.

I'm not supposed to do anything about it.

'It'll just complicate things,' she tells me.

She's squeezing my hand

tighter now.

So I brush It off.

But It grabs at my ankles

and I have to drag It.

And ignore It.

And walk with more force to keep the same pace.

Because

If I slow,

my baby will have to drag me.

And we wouldn't want that.

The End

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