Cuts and Bruises.

never intend to fight with you…it just happens. Like our first kiss; it just
happened. “We” just happened. We can’t justify anything we do. You can’t
explain why she keeps calling and I can’t explain why I keep crying. It just
happens. There’s a version of us in a parallel universe fighting it; like we are.
We don’t make sense. We can’t exist as an “us” there’s you and there’s me. I
shouldn’t be okay with it. It shouldn’t be him I’m calling baby…you’re calling
her your lady; how the fuck did this happen. But I’m okay…I say. You’re okay.
But we’re never okay. You know? No, you don’t. I put the simplest of words
together to say this but I got lost in translation. This way or the other there’s
no sense here. I just happen. And now I can’t explain how I intended this for
more than one man. “It just happened?” 

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