Throwaway

I saw someone with the same bag as me, but not the same holes and tears
Patched and carefully fixed, different memories
But the words I would use to describe it
The taste of them as they leave my lips
I miss them as they depart
I swear it’s all linked in some way,
All these ideas and rambles
Maybe one day I’ll be able to create a continuation, find time to do things punctually
Or maybe I just need a break in the beginning of January
I wouldn't call this a throwaway, but I can't put the ideas together yet

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