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Attempt at Heartfelt Lyricism
You were always
such an indie jerk, you couldn't admit
you liked my dumb music, though the
insipid lyrics made you smile when you least wanted to.
Your carefully smudged t-shirt
and jeans you insisted weren't skinny
heralded your forced nonchalance,
your grins dwindled into smirks -
I think you used to smile more -
through precisely awkward glasses,
your perfect blend of free trade and hand roasted.
I remember every band you pretended to hate,
everything you smoked,
the calculated way you didn't care.
You were an equation with an unsolved variable,
a high-tier item under a dull recolor,
and other trite, pseudo-intelligent nonsense.
I lived for the days when I peered through your affected disdain
and saw you, for a second,
faint and breathless.
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