December 2011
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When we die, these are the stories still on our lips. The stories we’ll only...
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i know what i said. the words were sharp and bitter, like the cold that bit at every naked bit of my body that night. i was in the awkward in-between of the slightly inebriated and the stumbling drunk, a drunken metamorphosis with no pretty outcome.
you stayed calm the whole time, which made me even angrier. i wanted you to be upset, to fight for me, to want me. you didn’t. you were the...
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I don’t remember exactly what day it was,
It was Wednesday,
or even my exact age, really.
You were seventeen, it was our senior year.
I do remember that it was pouring rain.
It wasn’t, it was sunny. Why do you romanticize things?
I swear I could taste your chapstick through the phone when you called.
I hadn’t worn chapstick in years. It was gum that you tasted, when our...
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