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Your words,
they hurt.
Your gestures,
bring pain.
I run away,
but you revert.
I tune out your voice,
but drive you insane.
And there we still have
all those ripped photographs
of just you and me,
laying on the floor.
Not a whisper from them,
not even a motion or sound.
Just too look at them,
well they're too profound.
Just imagine,
all the silences we've had.
Then think again,
all the glances, too sad.
Those we're the memories,
the ones of the past.
And then there's those photographs
I knew would never last.
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