The Smiths has long given me a little rube, but you got me listening conspicuous in the loop.
Wonder why this heart feels stubborn, guess it’s deeply battered by the torn.
To be saddened, I scold myself for begging your sympathy; to still learning not to be his.
You welcomed me as Autumn without even asking my name.
You’re the Virgo that no psychic has ever mentioned.
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