Patrick
It's her stupid red shoes,
they make me miss her even more
she'd call me at 9,
she'd want me to come lay under the stars with her
we'd pick out constellations,
naming them after people we once knew
but all i'll hear now is the reminiscence of her
voice over that awkward dial tone
& i'd tell her to find the same star i'm looking at,
as long as that star was still there, we'd be happy
i left monday, i left for good
now all i get is phone calls,
its been weeks,
and weeks,
since that last call
that star burnt out last night
well i got a call,
she killed herself.
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