Eighty-two: Secret Smile

Spitting beer drops into an empty wallet, I glance so rarely you must
wonder if I remember your name but the truth is that I know the letters
so well that I don’t need to turn around to read you every minute; all
I want is your face to grace the pillow next to mine when I finally get
you home. You can laugh with everyone as long as you save that secret
smile for me. I appreciate those fleeting moments you remember my number
but I think I already know that you count too many things to add me in.


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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