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i'm writing a poem​​ to get you out of my head,

to trap feelings among words,

to squish secrets between sentences

that way, i can forget every conversation we had

i'm writing a feature to illuminate the page

like a 2 am text

that way, the next time my phone lights a dark room up, i won't, not even for a second,

imagine your name across the screen

i'm writing a critique as sour as

the watermelon liquor we found

stashed in your freezer

that way, gummy worms and lemonade will always

taste sweeter than a tipsy kiss with you

i'm writing a lullaby with hums from 

the engine of your black sedan

that way, when i see you driving down atlantic ave

i'll keep on running,

no longer desperate for a glimpse of

who's behind the wheel

i'm writing a monologue full of

your inflections and phrases

that way, if i step into the bodega between

your place and mine, i won't ever believe 

i hear your voice by the hand soap

i'm writing a sketch and stealing

your funniest punchlines 

that way, i'll never smile at the thought of you again

i'm writing stanzas full of misunderstandings 

and honest intentions

i'm writing paragraphs trying so hard to say

the right thing it always comes out wrong

i'm writing chapters too busy to be shared,

i'm writing stories too insecure to speak up

i'm writing 

that way, 

a lifetime from now, when i unpack these pages 

from a dusty attic and read them again

i'll visualize an unfamiliar man,

making me laugh until my abs shake 

i'll picture a silhouette, keeping me awake until

hues of pink transform the sky

i'll pause, i'll reflect, i'll wonder

i'll return calmly to my day,

unable to place the stranger

who made me feel so wonderfully alive 

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