08
Sep
12

J’accuse



Life, you bloodyass bastard, you've
offered me nothing of lasting value, save
one more chance to die for my love's love. 

Love, you buttugly jerk, it won't be hard
getting over you, soon enough all cured,
left behind like a misremembered word. 

Word, you worthless shit, you stink the worst
of what I came back to, lame and forced —
all you've meant to what life rid of me first. 
                            
                            
                            
                            [posted for Sara as of date written]
       
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formal attire

short of breath

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