I put you in there.

It’s all in the attic,

Your pictures,

Your gifts,

Your memories,

Our memories.

The attic that explodes

With a single thought of you.

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Make up your mind, b***h

Not my type
Then Best friends for life,
Transitioning or merely showing?
Them, omg them,
To being one of them,
Growing another face, are we?
Your standpoint sublime,
My Outlook mostly bland,
Not dissing merely asking,
In your head, are you fine?