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May 2013
if i were a song
you'd sing me out at the top of your lungs
until your parents were banging on your door
telling you to turn it down.

if i were a centerfold
you'd tear me out
and pin me up on your wall.

if i were a steven spielberg film
you'd flip through the movie channels
and choose me to watch over all the others.

i could be the first thing you order off the menu,
the gel you use to style your hair,
the pen with which you write,
the book that you dog ear and leave notes in.

but i'm not.
so you don't.
quinn collins
Written by
quinn collins  new york
(new york)   
479
 
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