Trivia. 

On many days, I have repeated myself; told you the same story, the same words over and over again like you never heard them before because I just really wanted to keep talking to you. 

On other days, I have exploded inside with those words, pretended to tell myself my own stories because I was unable to talk to you. Because we were both sulking and broody over trivia and it’s relatives.  

On those days, I have prayed for a sooner sunset. For the sun to go down on that day and wipe it off the memory of the universe, as I awaited the innocence of the morning. 

But today, I will repeat myself; tell you the same story, the same words over and over again like you never heard them before because I just really want to keep talking to you. 

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Arid.

But it flew with the wind 🍃

Are you gone?
You’re here but you’re not.
I thought I caught your smile,
Far off in the mirage.
But it flew with the wind.
The only promise of dew;
I stay parched.
I am arid,
If you’re gone.