streaming service the light of the television hits my glasses just right— migraine. it is 1:04am on a saturday night and i am alone as usual this is nothing new— the weekends are for me a lone motorcyclist in the night revs past the canal banks by my house is that the ghost of who you were in 2017? somewhere in a suburb in washington that very same bike gathers rust in your garage the same way your silver promise ring will tarnish with disuse every show on our shared hulu account is about love— breaking up at a wedding, finding love on an island, deciding if you can marry someone in 90 days or less our love has disintegrated into nothing more than the fact that our profiles in the shared account are still pet names that neither of us dares to change and the simple knowledge that i am using this account without paying my half and you will let me at the very least until you find someone new
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