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Forgotten Socks

Your socks were rolled up and left under the bed. It’s been months but it still gave me pause, and I held them in my hands as though I had never seen them before. Except I had.

I might’ve been called mad if someone had seen me staring at a balled up pair of socks but it was all I could do. Suddenly waves of you, and us, washed over me and something got caught in my throat. I struggle to call that a name I no longer use for you.

I didn’t know if I should bury them like I did us. Or maybe set them on fire. Or maybe even keep them.

I put them back and pretended like I hadn’t found them after so long.

Now I’m stuck trying to forget you again.

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