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i’ve never been one for clichés.
never wanted the boy-next-door.
or a white picket fence,
or 2.3 kids with bland names,
like mary or adam.

i never wanted a desk job,
or a glass of red with dinner,
or a dog named spot.

i didn’t dream of a big white wedding,
(all caps of course)

my barbies left their kens at the altar,
dropped their kids off with a friend,
and ran,
like a bat out of hell;
running for the coastline,
and fresh air,
and the allure of freedom.

funny dream,
for a landlocked little girl.

maybe that’s the point;
all i ever wanted was the best way out
and that was you.

so i took your hand,
and held it all the way down the coast,
and only let go when we reached the ocean.

you hovered there behind me,
eyes squeezed shut in awe.
and i wished i was a better person.

you wanted to stay.
i didn’t.

end of story.

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