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October 31, 2019
Red Skies at Morn
What if conversations on compression socks are all we have now? What if my cloudburst eyes
and inclement guilt are the only things I’m left with when I hang
up the phone? I’m scared there will only be the memory of a therapist’s office, recalling the...
October 20, 2019
I won’t be able to make it to the cemetery today; I’m lowkey annoyed,
and the concrete faces in black wool remind me of my own skin,
and how I couldn’t bag it and give it away
Haven’t my aunts always told me I look maudlin in dark shades?
Yellow is a better look. If we’re...