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Jul 2014
i keep forgetting that i am no longer
his definition of "lovely," that he no
longer finds my face his favorite
thing to memorize. my freckles
are no longer the stars in his
night sky. my lone dimple
is no longer the crater
in which he swims.

my
brown eyes
are no longer the
way he likes his coffee.
adr
Written by
adr
863
   suarata and Mary
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