We've been over this before.
And to the same inconclusive conclusion
Time and time again.
This may be neverending.
Sometimes, I even think of you when I'm not drinking.
You'll only think of me when you're dead.
I'm dead to you.
Some pain needs to be remembered, cherished, and never let go.
It's a lesson
Well this lesson-plan's been killing me for years. I'm tired and feeling old.
Pass me, or let me pass you.
I'm still freezing on that wintry campus walk..."four dead in Ohio."
Well, I was the fifth that day.
Numb fingers in glove grasping lifeless at your gloved hand.
I still can't speak.
I still want to kill him. I still taste my hate.
I still feel the guilt.
I am sorry.