It’s Fucked

It was right here,

This neverending wheat field that scratches at your hands and itches your ankles.

It was right here when I asked you a question.

When I asked a life changing question.

It was the time of your life; for mine too.

A love song seemed to have appeared in the past like the wheat swaying in that field.

“Did you fuck Rob?”

The wheat sways in love tinted glasses.

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