25.
there is no loyalty amongst thieves,
and i should have known this from the start.
no honour amongst thieves,
but still, even so. we never took
from those more ill-fortuned than us.
a memory is nothing more than
a hungry beast, who gladly feasts
on unspoken possibilities
of what would have been, what could have been,
of all the redemptions we could have made
if only, there was a way.
you turn, and i am there, engine light
blinking in the dark.
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