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Aug 28
Your eyes were chalkboards as you stumbled into your room
Blacklight flashbulbs
Work uniform untucked and licking at your shoulder blades
With each step you kissed the floorboards
That's what the autopsy said anyway
You clawed through the spit and spatter of perfume samples and photo booth mishmash
And pulled yourself up with white lightning
The strip mall pleasantries
It snowed deep enough to **** your autobiography into the mountainside
And we never made sugar cookies again
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