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Heatwave
The air is hot. I hit the streets in the necklace you got me for my birthday, behind my boyfriend’s back, knowing that the pendant will leave a tan mark all around my neck, a map for your lips, when you get me alone. There’s nothing more romantic than the rush of forbidden love, sleeping,…
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The Fourth Of July
Free on the Fourth of July, fireworks are so silent in comparison to my screaming sobs, as the tether is cut, never to be connected again, and I worry that my heart will forget to beat without you there to remind her. I was free, but I didn’t feel like it, because my bed was…