I wasn't going to
keep your texts,
but I did.
Who needed that
record of evidence,
I thought.
But I did.
I wasn't going to
get attached to those
words,
But I did.
I wasn't going to
like you,
but, anyway, I did.
Nor was I going to
think of you often,
too often,
recounting, and recalling,
recounting, and recalling,
and I wasn't going to
sometimes
gasp aloud
upon that recollection,
but I did.
I most certainly did.
I self-promised I would
not miss you,
but I did.
I tried not to
like you, too much,
but I did.
And I really wasn't
going to,
but I have.
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