when our impulses
take over and are in charge,
we are not ourselves.
Beautiful pink flowers and brown muddy waters
Green bushes and bristles, pushing out from the bank into the sun
Weeds sprouting out, growing and growing
I threw a needle at the mirror, the whole thing shattered,
leftover lipbalm sits in my pocket.
I would’ve never kissed you if I knew you were straight
False memories might betray me but,
i think i used to look up this street, and dream,
dream about becoming one with the pavement
where the road met the sunlight
I could almost taste the harshness,
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