the thing i hate most about you is that your smell is everywhere and when i turn to hold your hand you aren’t there to touch 

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you’re everywhere i go

you’re that shady spot under a tree

you’re that cup of chai tea that lady is sipping

you’re that tacky sweater i see in the jc penny’s shop window

you’re that swing with the broken seat

you’re that bird chirping on my windowsill at 5:36 in the morning

you promised you’d never leave and you didn’t 

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a simple nick

a crescent moon

across the wrist

from it, blood blooms

but over time

the wound has healed

it’s the damage within

that you still feel

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i have a pretty boyfriend

he’s so nice and clean

strong and handsome, funny and smart

he’s every womans’ dream.

but every time i’m with him

i can only think of you

your messy hair, your crooked teeth

the smell of your perfume

my mind is catastrophic

of overthinking this

should i leave my boyfriend

for your simple kiss?

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i’m not that good at words

i painfully digress 

you hang on to my every speech

every word that i may stress

i wish you would ignore me

i’m tearing you to shreds

every thought, song, or whisper

has left you full of dread.

while i don’t mean to do this

you’re wonderfully inclined

to sit and have a chat with me

your words, sweet and kind.

i really don’t deserve this

your attention or your gifts

would you please throw them away?

i’m worth none of this.

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you’re an oxymoron,

absolutely unsure

awfully pretty

stupidly brilliant

painfully beautiful

weirdly normal

typically odd

seriously funny

it’s a known secret

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i wish i could lay down

with you somewhere quiet;

and i would ask you simple questions about your life

such as, “what is your morning routine?” 

or whether or not you like honey in your tea, except this time,

instead of petty answers you’d lay out the entire scene

right down to the toothpaste you use

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