I stopped being exciting
For way I’ve chosen to express myself
The only surface I exist on is writing
About my small fretful mindsets
I was quite entertaining
For your new friends out there
But not enough for making
You realize that I still care
And if you say you’re sorry
I’ll blame it on myself
So you don’t need to worry
That would be our twelfth
I’ll still know every freckle on your face
Keep calling stars in space with your name
Forgetting unread texts, and "later"s and "not now"s
And never fluffy hair and tender laughs
But you still grip so firmly
Whenever you may need me
And I can’t even think of
Not answering your call
We’ve call it quits already
Eleven times these years
And I’m still not ready
To see your falling tears

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