| So, tell me, that time in the sunset and we entered the sunlight and were apart,
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| like in every cliché revealing itself, like, it’s so stupid
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| Animal, husband, and wife, two strangers, and a representative from the
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| government forming a dissertation on love, but, with them, a ritual of course
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| One of my friends has to be wondering
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| Can I only write these things?
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| Not all the other things?
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| I don’t know
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| The curves on her face. |
| The most ordinary
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| The ones she sees the most
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| The ones that make her cringe
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| Yet have the power to calm her from her panic attacks
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| Because she knows her hands fit there
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| The skin makes room
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| Like the groove of my finger long after I take the wedding ring off
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| It wrote something there, on my finger
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| And my skin just gave in
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| finger
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| Coming through
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| Just gave in to the ordinary
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| Giving in to the ordinary
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| Giving in to the ordinary
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| To the ordinary
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| To the ordinary
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| To the ordinary
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| To the ordinary, ordinary
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| To the ordinary
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| To the ordinary
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| Ordinary, ordinary
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| Ordinary, ordinary
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| Ordinary, ordinary
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| Ordinary, ordinary
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| Ordinary
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| My finger
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| Outside again, the chaos
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| And I wonder what is lost
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| Long after I take the wedding ring off
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| We don’t always get to choose
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| When we’re close
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| And when we’re not |