I cried for you tonight.
On a bed of concrete with a wooden pillow,
I cried for you.
Somehow
even with blue skies above me,
I knew it would rain.
And it did.
4 years has changed so much
Not enough to matter, though.
I'm still here, crying in the rain.
You're still gone.
I still miss you.
I still catch myself writing for you.
They call it "Generic and boring," but I don't care.
I write anyway.
1.2.3.4 years and I can't let you go.
My grasp is tighter now it seems.
I tried to find a replacement-you,
but they weren't up to the task of having me for a friend.
You really were special.
Maybe now that I've cried myself out and the rain is dwindling down to a drizzle,
I can stop writing.
Maybe now I can sleep.
But I doubt it.
Any progress I've made is tainted.
Because I cried for you tonight.
Or maybe for myself.
Either way, I'm weak.
And I can't do it anymore.
I just want to forget crying.
For you,
For me,
For us.
No, instead I'll cry for the tonights
that never happened.
And all the ones that did.
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