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Here's a poem you can call your own.
Let it wrap itself around your neck till you turn cold.
A toast to the paragraphs of your emotional distress.
These words will stitch your insecurities into a seductive dress.

Here’s a poem you can call your own.
A haunting of memories for when you’re alone.
A guide
for the ghosts who don’t have a home.
Lost and lonely
wishing they had a tombstone.
 Sep 2017 Ana Teresa Gardea
jamie
i don't know how you
feel about me anymore

i know we're friends
who tell one another secrets

but maybe there's one more
secret we haven't told

what if i were to say
i had feelings for you

we've been here before
things didn't quite work out

but i can't help but feel
there's something more

lingering thoughts
missing touch

maybe one day we could meet
or say these things in person

but for now
i'll sit here

with my poetry and music
while you're across the ocean

with your poetry and music
possibly thinking the same things

— The End —