It's not going to happen, and there is some part of me, way deep down that knows it. But for some reason, I just can't let it go. In me it sits, like a festering illness, and all I can do is wait for the next conversation, hug, look, to boost that faint hope once again. I wont get over it, but maybe, with some help, I can move past it.
And yet, I'm still waiting for you. And I probably always will be.
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