it seems as though I was addicting at one time,
words cluttered on this sheet of paper,
there will be few things said.
(friction in my jeans
wet caverns dried like my tear ducts,
and these words break on the page.)
you aren’t mine, not even sure if you ever were,
leave me for her every night to return for
midnight cigarettes burned
lovers shake their head.
(my claim is broken
and my heart flat-lined on the floor
my affairs in order
my smell disappears.)
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Submission Name: Aulie--iii
