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newborn Jan 2022
ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʀʏɴᴀ ᴊɪɴx ᴍʏsᴇʟғ
ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ’ᴛ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ’s ʙʟᴏᴄᴋ ɪɴ ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀ
ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɪᴛ’s ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏssᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴄᴋs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴀ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ sᴛᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ sᴡᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ
ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɪᴛ’s ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ
ᴇxᴛʀᴀᴠᴀɢᴀɴᴛ ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ
ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɪᴛ’s ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪ ʟᴇᴀᴘᴇᴅ ᴏғғ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘʟᴀɴᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴅᴇʟɪʀɪᴏᴜs ʜᴀᴢᴇ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀʏ
ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴘʟᴜᴍᴍᴇᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅs ᴇᴀʀᴛʜ sᴏ ғᴀsᴛ ᴘᴀᴄᴇᴅ
ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴀᴄʜᴜᴛᴇ ᴅᴇᴘʟᴏʏᴇᴅ
ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴀᴛ ɴᴇᴡ ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛs ɪ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ɪ’ᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀ sᴇᴇ
ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɪᴛ’s ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ғɪʀᴇᴡᴏʀᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ sᴋʏ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ғɪɴᴀʟʟʏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ
ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀʀs, ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴᴇᴛs
sᴍɪʟɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴀs ɪғ sᴀʏɪɴɢ
“ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ɪᴛ.”
ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴀᴅᴏᴡs sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴄᴏᴀᴛ ʜᴀɴɢᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ ᴅʀᴇssᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇᴅs
ɪ ᴡᴀsɴ’ᴛ ᴀғʀᴀɪᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ
ɪ ʙᴀsᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ ɪᴛ
ᴅᴇᴇᴘʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴅʟʏ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛɪʟʟɴᴇss ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ
ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ sᴇᴇᴍs ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ɪs ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛʟʏ ʙᴀʟᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ
ᴀɴᴅ ᴍʏ ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟᴜsᴇᴅ
ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ sᴛᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ sɪɴᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏssᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴅᴏᴜsᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴇᴇɴɪsʜ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ
ғᴀʟʟ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇ
ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ғᴀʟʟ ᴛᴏ ғɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏsᴇ ɪɴ ʟɪғᴇ
ᴀɴᴅ sᴏ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ’ᴛ ʜᴀᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ’s ʙʟᴏᴄᴋ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀ
ᴡᴏᴡ, ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜɪs ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏғ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪs sᴇᴠᴇʀᴇ
Thank you for opening up my soul
And letting me spill out words
I never even knew before
newborn Nov 2022
your hands were fire
i needed to be warmed
in my little flower crown
on my hesitant head
but
i denied it
it makes me sick with sorrow
as i paced in my own selfish delusion
losing focus
losing faith
we danced on the patio
as the night thickened
i turned you down
left you turning black
underneath my touch
you grabbed her hand
reaching for a soft resolution
did you know?
i forgot how to process
i wrote you notes in candlelight
hoping moments could become
real again
real
real…
i once believed i would marry the weather
and its mood swings
but i lost my way while walking back home
tripped on the beaten path
i lost the fire that was contained in your soul
it couldn’t turn to solid fast enough
i died alone in a abandoned bar
as you dined in a two story house with your children at the foot of your bed
but i didn’t love you and i still don’t, so why do you seem like my missing piece?  
why do i feel like i need you?
something real, something real, something real
inspired by little women, jo and laurie teehee

11/29/22
newborn Jan 2022
salt is sprinkled all over my wounds
the blood is boiling
lost in a daydream
trapped in a hazy atmosphere
where no one can escape

the sky is falling
while the ukulele strums
it’s bittersweet to know I’ve known you once before
especially cause now ur a stranger

my cheeks are soggy from the tears
wasting materials, drinks, and years
the ground is wet and damp
the rain is dripping down like the residue on my face after watching you deliberately ignore me

the earth is faint and quiet
losing the best things
inside the worse moments
slowing sobbing
in a delicate motion

but even as the world is ending
a silence is better than nothing
i hear the horns
and it’s the most pleasing noise
echoing through every corner
collecting all my memories
all my fears
all my worries
and i think i am finally alive

we are all gonna be ok
Listen to fine line while reading
It’s a magical experience, trust me

1/18/22
XY
newborn Feb 2022
XY
jupiter, dear
i love you for not letting the hormones in your body control your every move
the raging ocean and cascading waterfalls
dripping from your supposed emotionless hands.
you have different chromosomes than me
and you dance and i sit and you prance and i try to live
freely.
jupiter, dear
i don’t hate you for your chemical reactions
or the way you are so stupidly attractive
to me.
i will never know what it’s like to be exactly like you
strung on bodies and sunlit shapes
feeling around your out of body experience.
drunk on hazel eyes and i am tipsy off sweet conversation
ripping and passionate in the nighttime
and i am teasing and tumbling with somebody as pastel as the moonlight.
but i can’t plague you for the corruption of humankind
you aren’t a silk butterfly but at least you can fly
jupiter, dear
just because you have a different chromosome than i
doesn’t mean anything about who you are inside
i love men.
and that’s on period.

(not a pick me)
newborn Mar 2022
i talk to my friend on the phone
but i can’t help but wish it was a boy
cause we could sneak out late just to laugh at ourselves
or swing on the swing set and you could catch me midair
but wait, these are fantasies
i will never be loved
by a boy who will wrap me up in his arms
treasure me and tell me i’m one of a kind
and not want my body but long for my soul
yearn for my presence and not for the immodest clothes that i wear
i wish it could be like 1922
when boys were men and girls were women
all of the romances written at that time
were sweet and delicate and dainty and slices of life
whereas now i hate every boy that i see because they like my figure and dislike me
but maybe i’m a rambler
and i have nothing to complain
even so, i’m just as lonely at the end of the day
i wish there was someone who would be my umbrella in the rain
but those boys are so scarce nowadays
i fear they’ve gone away
extinct
dead
eliminated
i’m waiting for the day we are all monsters
not waiting for the day when i find a 60 degree day love
in between my polyester sheets
when we both wake up
and we are just in peace
do you ever get so sick of waiting that you turn to stone?
your bones aren’t yours anymore cause you let someone else borrow them
ugh, life is so unfair

3/6/22
newborn Aug 2022
it’s been a whole year
since i wrote my first poem
it’s been quite a rollercoaster of
a year, but i’m grateful
for it all
i’d like to think that
i’ve evolved in
the topics i write about
the ways i convey emotion
i’m nowhere near a
good poet
and i’ll never be
but heck,
it’s only been a
year since i
first started writing
poetry
cheer for me. jk

8/21/22
newborn Oct 2023
you, a garden of hydrangeas and rhododendron bushes.
me, a nomadic soul too obsessed with being accepted in the natural slip of life.
my midnight moonlit sorrow
is eating me alive.
you, a sun-drop dandelion, too glorious to be planted near my seeds.
my tainted heart,
an obese beast lingering like a ghost that never passed to Heaven.
my inability to place value on that vessel.
you, a rose petal blowing in the wind.
me, lost little ladybug trying to find her way back home.

you wouldn’t love me anyway.
i’m sorry i cannot love you.
10/25/23
newborn Oct 2023
i’m so terrified
of the dawn that creeps up behind this cabin in the woods
i’m so scared of the violent rush of seawater
pinning me to the sandy shore—slamming my body, so rough that my esophagus stops for a second
when there are people in front of me,
i push them away
so violently, so quickly
immediately losing sight of everything in front of me
and i’m so sorry.
what should i do?
watch as the things i wish for fly away into the dark atmosphere?
watch as the flame i ignited dim in front of my very eyes?
i’m decision-less
so perpetually confused
what should i do?
should i love you?
so, i went to homecoming last night and i had so much fun. we snuck out of the school and we sprinted towards our cars. i’ve never felt more alive. and i went with someone and now i don’t know how i should feel. i always wanted love to knock at my door, but now i’m just frightened. ahh.

“i get overwhelmed and confused if only you knew what i felt like.” -Laufey

10/8/23
newborn Oct 2022
you know,
when i was young
i saw the world as a canvas.
a blank sheet of material waiting for my curious little fingers to touch,
to sculpt, to model.
and oh, did i paint.
i moved mountains with my palms, i made rivers flow with the touch of my hands
and you know what?
i thought myself a pretty esteemed artist.
i imagined my future living in a huge penthouse in the biggest city in the world i could think of at that age and that was
pittsburgh.
i would tower over the laborers and the tax workers and the mailmen and the street performers because i was the new “it” girl.
glistening in pearls above the city people who always take life so seriously.
inside of my kindergarten classroom,
i believed everything to be possible.
we learned about Noah’s ark and what two plus two was and i was smart
and quick on my feet
meanwhile some other child was crying and i couldn’t understand why because everything i could have ever wanted was displayed on the chalkboard in that very moment.
the world was a thousand colors in that classroom.
there were always crayons at my disposal, in which i used them to sketch part of the planet that was still blank on the canvas.
i believed.
i believed that Santa still existed and that the tooth fairy would bring me money instead of a tooth under my pillow but guess what?
i didn’t lose my first tooth until second grade.
back when the only worry i had was that my teeth weren’t loose and wobbly
back when the world looked friendly and the only things that were hostile were my pugnacious teeth that wouldn’t budge.
i saw skies where there were vicious mirrors, blessings where there were flaws.
my classmates were foolish but i-
i knew what i wanted my canvas to be.
but
soon
i
started
getting
older
and cancer was a real thing. violence was a real issue not just something i saw in a batman comic. society turned her back on the very children she birthed.
my hands stopped painting with bright colors.
highlighters were stolen out of my hands, pencils placed in them.
gray graphite with no emotion except “do this math problem or you will fail at a future.”
what future am i exactly preparing myself for at this speed?
what happened to the coloring books
and the watercolors and the all about me posters i made?
where did they go?
did they disappear into the void of shame?
because once the authorities took away my liberties; my freedom, i started slacking.
the world became a barren wasteland like the one after simba left the teeming pride lands.
bulldozed over.
all that creativity pent up in me..it had to be slaughtered.
it had to be executed.
so i breathed smoke to **** the formation inside of me
it choked, and so did i
and i
felt bad for it.
creativity was the one driving force, the one constant in my world that was falling apart and making room for the erratic world that punched through the walls of my love for the old world.
what would i be without a classroom full of tools that i could use whenever i saw fit?
this is insane.
people started coming into my life and out and i could not hold their hands and beg for their stay; they would leave me kicked and scarred
and maybe they whispered “sorry” to me because some of their empathetic nature still existed.
some of their light still hadn’t been stomped out.
it was fully wrecked when their parents got divorced
and there were screaming battles
and that’s when they heard that vile swear word that comes up in every conversation now as a teenager
and that word makes them upset
yet
they can’t remember why
just like their parents never understood why their child got so depressed jumping from house to house.
whiplash to the extreme.
and i can’t breathe without the creativity that connected the dots in my childish brain
and now being childish is an insult and i cross out all my experimental portraits and replace them with whatever the teenager next to me is drawing
because being original is easy to pick on.
and i didn’t want to be 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 kid.
no one wants to be 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 kid.
the canvas i once held in my hands is ashy and blackened and
unsalvageable.
its poor soul destroyed by a tiny bonfire by the woods
because no one likes when you decide you want to create the world in your image
cause it’s corrupted in everyone else’s
and they want you to suffer just like they did, to discover that innocence and ignorance are apparently now synonymous with each other and you can’t think otherwise!
what was looking at another kid’s artwork as a child?
there was only seeing that john had the color purple drawn on his paper
and sofia had the new stamps that were put up near the bulletin board.
that was all.
none of this body dysmorphic garbage.
the world isn’t beautiful as it was before on poster board and i don’t remember the last time i was truly physically and emotionally happy.
i now found the art of wanting to rip the hair out of my skull and there are times that i contemplate if i should just end it all,
but then i think back to all those years when i was younger and how big the world felt in my tiny fingers,
though i know—some tiny fingers build rocket ships, some tiny fingers get involved in cancer research to save other people from the same thing their grandparents had to battle with and lose to, some tiny fingers become doctors and nurses and good people with good hearts with hope for the restless world.
some tiny fingers might have lost the canvas and the poster board,
but they never lost sight of what world they were gonna leave an impact in,
what world they were gonna make great one day—one child with a crayon at a time.
you’re looking at my first spoken word poem i have ever written. i am so prouddsdsdddsjwj

lowkey inspired by mrs. Ribiero by Sarah Kay…

10/11/22
newborn Jul 2022
the beat of drums pounded into her heart
releasing signals in her brain to jolt her head up and down to the rhythms.
she sang and screeched and carried on long into the night as she kissed the cheeks of some man who called her cute.
she returned home with his tattooed arm in her coat, clutching onto her for dear life; the way he should have treated his phone on the dance floor.
he flopped on the sofa, slurring his words like a sorority girl; hammered.
he blacked out belligerently drunk on her couch and at one in the afternoon he arose, coughing, residue on his fingers.
his face covered in drool from sleeping dramatically like a madman.
she handed him an advil, a glass of purified water, and her phone to call someone he had had any contact with before.
his face was pale and sickly; she could tell he felt crushed by the weight of his bewilderment.
his eyes, though strung out, were jet blue with a glimmer of teenage angst and a spark of the hopeful nature of a child in a field of dandelions.
he uttered few words and collapsed into the firm motherly hold of the couch, struck from exhaustion.
he gazed up at her, who was half naked since she had only been awake for three hours and had nowhere to go because she was too embarrassed to bare the bruises in the creases of her neck to the public.
but instead of speaking to her, he started gulping down the water after taking 3 pills of advil to make the pain disintegrate.
carefully, he set the chilly cup down and stood up slowly and steadily.
he gasped feebly, but managed to prop himself up on his two wobbly legs.
“you alright there?” she asked as casually as possible, to make him perceive her as less of a threat.
“where am i?” he inquired to this woman he faintly recalled.
“oh,” she giggled, “my house. you blacked out on my couch yesterday and i didn’t want to move you, you looked so peaceful, so i just left you there. hope you’re ok with that.”
“okay with that?” he asked gently.
“well yeah, i’d feel pretty worried if i ended up at a random strangers house on a saturday morning.”
he chuckled.
“well, to answer your question, yes i am quite confused, but i am a free spirit. so this is basically just a new experience i can add to my repertoire.”
she raised an eyebrow. “repertoire?” she pondered.
“well, i write music for a living.” he smiled sumptuously.
“you do?” her cheek bones got visibly higher and her eyes didn’t have the same troubled look to them as they did a few minutes ago.
“yes. i am not a very good musician, but my band and i get by. we play gigs at places. oh right, like last night. we were playing for fun and then...oh! a girl was kissing me. now i remember!” he was quite proud of himself for that.
“well, that’s the funny thing,” she started, “i was the one who was kissing you.” she laughed briskly.
“you were?” he asked, totally perplexed.
“of course. i didn’t know you were playing for that place last night, i thought you were a waiter or a pedestrian or something. ooh, or an alcoholic!”
“ouch.” he grinned delicately.
“no, no offense though.”
“too late, i already took it to my cast iron heart,” he joked.
she laughed.
“well, you were one cute waiter at that,” she stated seductively.
he smiled with his lips pushing into his mouth a little bit.

“thanks for everything. the couch, the advil, the talk. maybe you should see me another time. i play at bars all around the city. i’d love to see more pretty girls come around and hype me up once in a while.” his grin turned into a beam.
“no problem, i suppose i would like to spend some time around people who are rich and aren’t fun sponges,” she joked effortlessly.
“i can be sometimes.” her little giggles poured out of her mouth.
“well, i’ll see you around. hit those drums!” she called out to him as his uber arrived.
“sure thing!” he waved as he entered the car.
and for the first time in forever, his heart caused him to feel more emotions than his wicked hangover.
oh gosh

7/11/22
newborn Dec 2021
and maybe i would like to stroke your golden hair in the valley of the Shenandoah mountains
or feel the pressure of your immense love, but that’s for another time
Should I or should I not?
newborn Apr 28
your lover wears silk and paints her nails.
her hair is blond.
meanwhile i was blind to your longing.
you laugh at my jokes
while she dances in restaurants with her model-like accomplices.
she’s spring,
i’m a winter chill climbing over those limbs of yours i long to lay beside.
does she make you laugh
even when the jokes aren’t funny
even when your nose is runny
and even if you spill out too much of you
would she adore you just the same?
about feeling inadequate for someone. idek anymore lol.

4/27/24
newborn Oct 2023
mind; so generous and kind
you can be.
so smart and so free-living
you can be.
i’m homesick for you
in another dimension.
held captive by the dying hands of others.
mind; so wondrous and loving
you can be.
i wasn’t sure what i had before in this garden of weeds,
but you were always there,
always there for me
and i’ve taken you for granted
made you my supposed enemy.
mind; so delicate and beautiful
you can be.
when the loneliness was the only comfort
you were right all along;
i want to be alone.
alone with you.
i don’t want to be in love. i am not in love. i don’t want to be in love. i am not in love. i don’t want to be in love. i am not in love. i don’t want to be in love. i am not in love. i don’t want to be in love. i am not in love. i don’t want to be in love. i am not in love. i don’t want to be in love. i am not in love…

i just wanna be alone.

10/10/23
newborn Jan 2023
i have an innocent disposition
pacific ocean blue eyes
eye bags so purple they look like bruises
two hands that write and move
sometimes in ways i despise
unruly instances
i have thoughts beyond your imagination
purposes beyond your comprehension
values, morals, and attitudes you will never understand
i have two fists, red with repressed anger
legs strong and stable
to contrast the ground beneath my feet

i have to rid you out of my bones
your feral smirk and your vehement denial
i just wanna live in a state of safe haven
without my black heart or your carnivorous confrontations in the way

the adamant repulsion i feel
stapled to my chest like i own the compulsions that generate from me
scream into the microphone
my boiling blood the driving force in my disgust
these restraints like sandbags tied to my neck
choking me into a state of agony

i want to shower
rinse this uncomfortable filth that gathers on me

you should feel guilty
aren’t you embarrassed?

1/12/23
newborn May 24
i thought i broke my ribs laughing,
young and dying to be seen
i have no better place to be at 12 a.m, but beside you.
i wanna love you
so unapologetically.
you’re the cure to my illnesses.
we ran like little kids and the playground was blue, illuminated by the lights of little houses.
we ran and bolted and had no regrets;
i have no regrets.
i want to love you
like that playground loved school children
its only purpose to love the laughter till it disappears along with the breeze.
i had to disappear too.
i am older now,
and lost and you grabbed my hand and took me with you
and you are so wonderful,
allowing me to become a little kid again
chasing in the street
laughing till our ribs are soft and shattering.
what are we now?
swim with me.
let’s leap from the dock and become one.
i am a kid and you are who i look up to with wide eyes
and a tender soul
hold me in your lap
let me sleep and hold me
hold me
hold me.
so softly
so my ribs do not shatter.
my last day of high school is tomorrow. this is crazy. thank you for the memories. you made me feel like a little kid :)

5/23/24
newborn Feb 2022
i write you poems that you’re never going to hear
or read
or understand.
i write you poems since you’re never gonna know my name
or want to
or care.
i write you poems that maybe will make you see an apparition of me in your bedroom
that’s highly unlikely
i’ll stop trying.
and i write you poems so maybe one day you will realize that i love you and hopefully that will be enough for you to stay on this planet for a little longer and stop thinking of the slaughter
in my storyline
you will always be a daisy
and if you just listen to me
i will make you an entire garden
full of reasons why i write to you
and about you
and you will know for certain
that you are loved

you ARE loved
You literally inspired me to write in the first place
And I’m still writing.
That was January 6th 2021
You will never ever know that everything i write is basically about you even when it isn’t.
And I’ll keep writing because maybe
MAYBE
One day you’ll see everything I write
And you will smile and cry
And you will say
“I never knew anyone cared this much about my life.”

And I do
I really do

2/2/22

— The End —