May 19, 2009
One morning New Jersey will smell like sunflowers and you won’t worry for my sake.
Shades of purple and pink will cross me like on every non-flower smelling day.
But follicle by follicle you will build me up, entrust me to myself and sigh.
Up there, on my lonely throne, it will rain and I will cry with the clouds because I am so alone.
I will rip myself apart, cuticle by cuticle, cell by cell. I unravel so easily, it is no wonder you saw right through me.
Misery doesn’t love Company so much as she depends on him.

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