Chapin City Blues

Writing is writing whether done for duty, profit, or fun.

I don’t know what it is. Or how it is. Nor why it is. But no matter how far I move forward or get past this, I unreluctantly look back to you and feel that same shiver of uncertainty that brushed through me the first time we kissed. And I mean when you kissed me in that bench outside as the night began to creep in. And that night at the park. And just losing ourselves. And goddamnit! It pains me to say that after all this time that has elapsed between our first and last kiss. The first and last time I whispered I love you… I’m still that boy chasing you. And no matter how close I get… I’m still several steps behind, reaching out and grasping air.

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