“I’m not a soldier, but I know how to pull the trigger.”*
He’s holding on to me between hail marys and I-never-should’ves. We’re standing on an empty subway platform and every so often a car will pass screeching horribly, sparking like stars on our underground sky where it’s never night. The wind rushes up to meet us and I see my ghostly face
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Thank you for writing this.
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