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if the night was a love song
then you would be its singer. it
was written before you
came to it, but you seemed to
have created it with with each second
that you spoke, when you told us to go home, when you
explained that
fast cars didn’t always tell the
truth. You put down the microphone
and said that drugs weren’t cool. we danced and
turned into smoke before turning back
to people, you were exhaling. And then
you breathed in again.