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You...
You’ll never be more than the crumbled papers in my notebook or the dreams that make me toss and turn at night.
Youre only an idea i fell in love with, always just a fantasy that will never come true
You’re the penny that i toss into wishing fountains and the 11:11 wishes i keep wasting.
No matter how painfully obvious it is to me that we’ll never be anything more than just a silly idea, part of me hopes that we just might.
Why is it that you are the only one who ever made me feel alright?
Is this really even alright?
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