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I'm so comfortable with my face-with my fat fucking thighs-with my imperfect smile and my thoughts that might not make sense to you.

I'm comfortable reading a book and stopping and forgetting where I left off and picking up a new book to read.

I'm comfortable with dirty dishes in the sink and my questionable nature you might find annoying and pestering.

I'm comfotable.

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Poem-i think

You say this never bothered you But this was that And that was surely part of this... Whatever this is. I see fingertips tapping merciless on the counter top And to great surprise they aren't mine. I wait as you wait And I cry as you try And try And he knocks on my bedroom door As dove eggs cracking painlessly upon the floor

Refried dreams

Refried Dreams He left me a cold plate of refried dreams He left me. His knuckles no longer crack in sudden dreary while I sleep. The shape of the moon is no longer the same And I melt at the sound of upside-down guitar strings. The dinner table holds candles and dust And there lies a plate of refried dreams Muddled and alone,  no longer bright My spice gets lost in the beans and rice of your life. EV

Writings

Don't buy me flowers, Just walk me through them Take me to them, to the quiet place To sit-n- dream and choke on gin Where our hands meet And you're missing again. Take me there So you'll feel safe Show me flowers Between our space. Gentle-sweet Like your nature Just like flowers And pain's creator Show me, Make me Whole A-gain ...missing again Drunk on gin High on me-in my hand In my head Eggs in bed Toast and jam- Morning juice Drunk on gin; In sunshine hour Minus him, Minus flowers. EV