Endearing Miss

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Too often have I found,
savor in the in-between;
Too often does it seem,
expectations miscarry.

As if this trend dispirits,
my friend, it has hardly;
Too close we had been,
before the long between-

The mutual past endures
our formative years apart;
I often struggle to account
for changes that it’s done.

You’re different, as am I,
or so at least that seems;
Old jokes lose their punch-
Now fist-to-fist we punch-
(while drunk) Albeit once-

But do the bruises dispirit,
my friend? Evidently not.
One moment of extreme-
One which to not forget-
And oddly which to brag
(How often that I’ll brag).

Too often have I found,
through my years in life,
the friendships I acquire,
changing with its course;

Now-times that we meet,
expectations do miscarry,
and in-betweens I savor;
And ready for next round.

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