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24

Mar

ode

As I find myself,

I don’t find you.

You are now

disapated into a 

swiss holed memory.

The ash that paints

the day to dusk.

Blanketing

the remorse of 

airplanes and I love yous.

I take the Clementine route of

impulse.

The chosen vacancy;

I forget you. 

-b