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Loves
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the waiting place is a tea store on sunday
中午 At 12:00 pm you walk into the tea store that lies just above the edges of your consciousness, embalm your tongue with the scent of green tea and honey.
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stone in the soup
It's late when I pull into this town. the square is lively as my car sputters stop feet away from vision.
its a party. the people of the town running around and around and around, with carrots potatoes tomatoes everything the town has
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Dreamers
and they're all breathless
telling me of the doctors who defied odds and
the athletes who destroyed records and
the CEOs and chefs and
and what if,
yes I think they're cool and
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Constellations of Friendship
Hair tucked behind ears,
Cheeks pink and glowing,
Smiles illuminated by the sun,
Weeping willow branches cascading like poetry
Onto fluttered-closed eyelashes;
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perfect//imperfect
There’s a girl in my grade who cut herself last week.
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that poet feeling
does anybody else get that feeling deep in their chest, sharp like it's begging to come out but also soft as in fire soft, embers in a hole in the ground?