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After your memorial service I spent time with one of your partners, a cam star, along with a mutual friend who was also your **** dealer. We smoked shimmering moon rocks, exchanged books, and took pictures. I wanted to mobilize, but didn’t know what for. My body felt electric at the root, ready for action, if only I knew what. We all said we would keep in touch, and I desperately wish we had. I never got my books back. So many things fell apart when you died.
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Aug 6, 2020
Aug 6, 2020 at 10:16 PM UTC
Untitled
After your memorial service I spent time with one of your partners, a cam star, along with a mutual friend who was also your **** dealer. We smoked shimmering moon rocks, exchanged books, and took pictures. I wanted to mobilize, but didn’t know what for. My body felt electric at the root, ready for action, if only I knew what. We all said we would keep in touch, and I desperately wish we had. I never got my books back. So many things fell apart when you died.
This piece is part of a collection of poems about my best friend's death. Constructive criticism welcome!
PawpawPicker
Written by
29/Cisgender Female/United States
Aug 6, 2020
Aug 6, 2020 at 10:16 PM UTC
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