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i knocked over cooking wine
on my way to write this poem,
but the locus of my thoughts
was so intent on blueberries,
that i didn't mind the stains
or my comforter smelling
like sour grapes all night
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Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 1:58 AM UTC
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i knocked over cooking wine
on my way to write this poem,
but the locus of my thoughts
was so intent on blueberries,
that i didn't mind the stains
or my comforter smelling
like sour grapes all night
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