(not by choice but by serendipitous sweetness.)
every page makes me think more and more of you.
you're probably sitting on your damp deck
a yoga-pant decorated leg dangling over the side of a patio chair
smoking cigarettes that taste like answers
and thinking that you should add "paint nails" to your to-do.
i spent a whole summer
trying to replace memory with apathy
only to find you on page 147 of the bell jar.
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