I’m selfish, I’m so selfish, I’m sorry. And because I’m selfish I won’t let you forget. I’ll come by like a tickle of wind, like a sudden chill in the evening, a hushed tone when you’re not really listening. I’ll be the ache in your joint that reminds you of an old wound, and sometimes the odd feeling that nags at you, the word on your tongue you can’t quite put a finger on.
I need love, I’m sorry. So I might say things that I’ll regret just to know that you haven’t forgotten about me.


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