And I remember the skin of your fingers, the spot three quarters up I’d always touch when I was out of things to say. You held my hand, but you were too afraid to speak and I could never understand. I remember when you leaned in quick to kiss me, and I swear, that not a single force on earth could stop the trembling of my hand. And I remember how you smiled through the smoke in a crowded little coffeehouse and laughed at all my jokes. And I remember the way that you dressed and, how we wasted all the best of us in alcohol and sweat.
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