Really miss you.

When I'm tipsy

I will hug you,

And tell you I miss you.

And your sherbet smell 

Will feel like home,

And fill me up,

Soothing and sickly sweet.

Sickly, and then we go back

To pretending.

Pretending it all never happened. 

Maybe for you,

It never really did.

And maybe I am fed up,

Of forced smiles, when our eyes

Meet all too fleetingly. 

The End

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