sometimes, u find urself drifting back to dat place where it all began, hoping they’ll walk in, and u can slip back into those moments, again. u linger there, a quiet figure, searching the faces of strangers wit at small, fcukin stubborn hope dat maybe - maybe today they’ll come looking for u.
but when u finally turn to leave, there’s a heaviness in ur step, as if the weight of every unfulfilled hope is pressing down.
it must tear u apart, dat feeling - the hollow ache of walking away - alone; emptier than when u arrived.
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