But it sounds like me, doesn't it?
My voice, bleached bright yellow or orange
Will still vibrate the same wont it?
I'm afraid, dear, I won't miss myself once I've wandered off again.
I can't miss you either for I've forgotten your name again.
I think it tastes a bit like whiskey.
Or maybe just feels a bit like a hangover.
But between 17 and 18 I learned it'll hurt less when someone dies if you never knew them.
I swore you were hers and hers and hers so when you left me alone, in my head, I couldn't remember you even lived there.
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