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little deaths

all of this is urgent

therefore nothing is.

I read that on a rubber green bracelet that was given to me

by a boy at a concert when I was 19.

He said he loved me and disappeared behind the smoke

so I spent my years after that

building fires of my bones and discarding the embers

to make others warm.

none of this will exist one day, you tell me. you won’t exist.

I decide to make it all important, I make it all alarming,

I seek the answers when I’m sad,

so I press my coins into fortune teller’s palms

and tell her to read every line

that has been carved into me

by a lover.

they all left, she tells me

which reminds me

that funerals are for the living, really.

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