Her

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You're in a car with her.
Her from two, eight, and sixteen,
from your first love, first heartbreak,
first heartache.
Her with the smile like diamonds,
laugh like bells, and her love for
someone else.

Joy for another, with a gun,
and green eyes. "HD love," she says.
And you get it, you do.
"It's like doing a line."
And she laughs. You don't.
But you smile, you try.

You try so hard and she doesn't notice
the strain, the effort, the love,
because she's the star.
With the spotlight on her, it's a reality
tv show. It's perfect.

And you're just the best friend, second to one, in love.
In love with a burning ball of gas.
too bright, too hot. It burns you alive.

You turn to look at her, without greens eyes,
and without a gun you--

You swerve left--

"Sorry."

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