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February 7, 2007
we had an argument. we had a nasty, heated, sprawling brawl about nothing. there were no raised voices; no neighbors with their ears pressed to the walls. we waged war upon eachother; by daring to speak.
there was a raincoat in a pile on the floor. it was bleeding in cold pools in the corner, and it smelled like iron and old books. this happened in a room that i was never in.
there was a box of old keys on your bookshelf.
against the wall by your door, there are three pairs of shoes.
you know they're all there,
but she doesn't.