somewhere during my
attempts at distractions
in the middle
of hating and accepting
who I was and who I could be
attempts at distractions
in the middle
of hating and accepting
who I was and who I could be
at some intersection
of grief and joy
after I cried on
the ninth date
with someone who wasn’t you
in the moments when I sat alone
feeling the wind
listening to another
love song we used to sing
I got over you
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