where does it all go back? i try to trace my faults, combing through recollections like your fingers through my hair. it could be a million things. it could be nothing at all.
they all lead to nothing. a map to nowhere.
but i can still remember your breath on the back of my neck, singing into my hair. three libras in my head, wiring through my
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-bog-
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er, mean girls
or inner circle
starbucks love club!
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his loss;
& o such a loss.
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