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Writer's pictureBjørk O'Hara

A game we played, and she is sick of it now

Last night we played a game called 500.

We laughed, had fun and hygee the night away.

We tried to invite you, bit you are never interested.

She sends you her blog, but you never read it.


All you can do is smile at her, now and again.

You have nothing else to give to her.

But she doesn't want objects, she just wants you.


She tries telling you, but can't get the words out.

Who cares what she says, you're never interested.


You never see her. You never cared.

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