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for him

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some time ago i was pacing blithely
off cream white walls
as if trapped by the weight of his gaze
crashed to the floor
and spotted the pad of paper
alive on my desk
but the number two dead on its plane
“for me,” says he. “write something for me.”
no heavenly host on mania’s high
could send me flying again
“for me,” said he. “write something for me.”



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