Crushed (Untitled)

Three years it’s taken me. Three. We see our world in threes, don’t we? In circles, sounds, and trinities; between the white and green of our country; from Catterick to Brittany. There’s you, those three, and then there’s me. The syllables in your name sing songs to me. Between obsession and insanity, three years, I’m crushed, and it’s taken me.
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A tricolon is beautiful. God knows why. We're meant to like things in tens and fives because of having ten fingers. So what do we have three of that we love so much? Maybe it's a guy thing.