31 : Piling

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every crane i wrote,
piled up.
every word,
creased over.

i placed them,
one by one,
into your guitar.
it was the only thing you left behind.

the sound it made became muffled,
just as i thought your love for me was.
i never hurt so bad,
like someone was constantly stabbing me,
right in the chest.

i couldn't forget you.
not after all we'd been through.

no matter how much i wanted that memory gone,
it hung on.

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