january and cotton-light weather for the peach blossoms in the front yard of the brick house on the cul-de-sac of such dizzying distances to cover in tennis shoes and big breaths and laughs. winter is somewhere safe and sleeping and the new year is layers and layers of pictures of faces and 10 to the 40th meters of space and stars and galaxies that
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because I think i'll find your things.
i miss you
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