to find and to lose

7th May

It seems too surreal I will not see her again. But I am glad of her nonetheless. I sit at breakfast watching the empty bench where we drank beer and kissed and laughed and lamented the night before. My feelings for her bleed like ink into a bowl of water, spiralling out through my chest. This is the price you pay I suppose. To find and to lose, these two together always.

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