i guess it doesn’t matter what else i write about, i guess
you’ll always be my muse. i can read the poems in the way you walk
and the way your paper-plane hands fidget with the buttons on that shirt.
one day i will run razorblades through your jeans. not while you’re wearing them, don’t worry.
one day we’ll go shopping together and play hide and seek in the clothes shop
it’s so much fun hiding behind the mannequins.
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