signals the end on the space of a postcard. cut and cropped on the kitchenette floor. take in the truth with a large grain of discord. burn the decree on the roof of my mouth. one time doesn’t mean it’s always. forever isn’t what it once was. we’re joined in erasing the history. placing an end date on love. we want it to be like plain white milk. cleaner than slate. cooler than smooth. falling apart isn’t hard as I once thought. sacked and raked, turn it into sublime. happy and sad in a double-tightened slip knot. anesthetized by distance and time.
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