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May 23, 2016

I feel like you're being ripped out of me and now that empty space sees void

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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.

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