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Feb 2021
Now I'm just the fly
on the rim of her
chardonnay glass.
A tourist everywhere I go.
It brings me back to
that apartment in the South Bronx,
an onion disguised as an apple,
an old boy who no longer trusts
the weatherman.
I leave the lights on when I'm gone
so that coming home feels less lonely.
Andrew Philip
Written by
Andrew Philip  27/M/Denver, CO
(27/M/Denver, CO)   
115
   Angie
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