we were so close yet so so far. like december and january are.
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i feel you in the sun shining down on my shoulders. in the breeze in my hair. in the tears on my cheeks. in the iron in my blood. in the taste on my tongue. in the scratch on my left shoulder. in bit marks down my neck. in your initial hanging from a chain around my neck.
i am not just a feminist, i am a supporter of people.
happiness is running away from me. and i am letting it happen.
when i can’t sleep at night, it is your memory playing in my head that keeps me awake.
why must i be so full of rage? i can only dream of peace.
i’m suffering. sinking into the furthest depths of misery. and yet it feels holy.
march’s last day feels far too unsettling. like the end of an era. the end of you.