

difficulties.books are thick like nice red lips, but logical and square like the boxes of break-up chocolates wed share. and the longer we wait the worse its going to get.difficulties.
i will not weep for what i have done, or for what i long and mean to do. you were just a cardboard cut out with a stiff recyclable heart that i never much cared for.
and the longer you wait,
the harder its going to get to break it to you.
every bird will sing songs,
expecting others to hear them. and thats exactly what you were doing, you knew i


chapped.i bite my lips constantly, but ive never known why.chapped.
i guess its just one of those nervous habits, boredom habits,
for-absolutely-no-reason habits,
that ill most likely never break.
and i bite them like a child bites a blow pop, hard and unsuspecting, the candy has cracked. to the contrary, still this habit will not break.
leaving the child, teeth hurting, taken aback,
no lessons will be learned.
i break hearts constantly,
but ive never really figured out why.
its just one of those clumsy habits,
those reckles


the red queen effect.you said: you know, i can't remember if you ever told me we were doomed from the beginning.the red queen effect.
but it sounds like something you would say.
but when you find yourself experimenting in my skin, i will feel obliged to mention the pulse that pulls my strings, the fact that i am not your personal puzzle, but something foreign and
frail and not even worth your exasperated sighs.
i am button eyes and uneven stitches and i said: please shut the door behind you when
you leave,
and you did not catch the inflection in my tired flatblack eyes, the wea
WHOLE
(:
--
let's play a game called you pretend i am an actual poet
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