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  • Writer's picturewhit


I drank a cup of tea, raspberry zinger always suited me. I'm finally becoming free. I'm over you calling me 'sweet pea', or 'darling'. I'd rather focus on my degree.

I dreamed of all I could be while unlocking it with a key. I turned on the Christmas tree, as pines scratched my knee and I replayed your apology.

It's funny how I've become carefree while you've been stuck in debris wishing to disagree wishing to intervene.

The summer you spent on a pony, I spent serving minestrone. I wonder when that eventually of changing to everybody  became a reality.

For me, happiness was a guarantee the moment I asked myself "Who is Whitney?"

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