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Two years' silence makes me wonder. You scatter the unfinished puzzle on my table across the wooden floor, landing near the missing pieces. Words blow through like smoke and I know better... But I still wind up on hands and knees next to you picking up pieces. My heart breaks again, you walk out the door... But the puzzle is finished and the final image makes me wonder, but only time will tell.But you still make me want to fucking scream.
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