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  • Writer's pictureQuinn

mirrors, tears and years

This morning as I drove to work I started to miss my old life with you.

By 4pm we were arguing and I was happy to be driving to my own apartment.

You pretend that you don't like to cause me pain, but always stick your fingers directly into my wounds.

I don't let you see me cry anymore, I just spit in your face.

I don't let you see me cry anymore, because my pillows have given me more softness & comfort than you ever could.

I don't let you see me cry anymore, but I still do

everyday it seems.

It's hard not be cliché and rhyme tears with years

but it's been almost 2 and they just don't stop coming.

I'm starting to lose time again; remember about the time I was driving.

I was driving

down the roads I've driven the last 15 years of my life

and I got lost.

And I lost time

and I was scared.

We had fought about money again and I looked up and I had no idea where I was

or how I had gotten there.

That's how I been feelin' when I look into mirrors

holding back tears

wishing there were years.

It's not my old life I miss today.

I miss the new normal that has yet to be born out of this fucking nightmare.

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