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Jan 2015
the sight of soccer makes me sick
the smell of old spice makes my eyes *****
seeing a buick makes me want to curl in a ball
it always seemed like you stood so tall
above me
as i stood in your shadow
you were
are oblivious
as you chat away
every day
pretending to care
like you want me there
today you almost
read my poems
to lend you my computer
while it was up
you read one
before i freaked and pulled it away
it makes me
this hopeless devotion
it curdles my stomach
this senseless inward commotion
reading like a sheakspere historian
into your every word
every time
our eyes meet
i fall a
little more in love
and get a little angrier
at myself
for succumbing to
this foolish
black hole
of a sickness
well, im angry at myself a) for feeling like that for a guy who wouldn't notice if i never talked to him again and b) not paying enough attention before handing a boy ive written LOADS of sappy poetry about the computer where i have one of the poems up. one of the poems about him
and he knows it was about him, but he... ugh!!!
Autumn Whipple
Written by
Autumn Whipple  sacramento . california
(sacramento . california)   
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