cosmic inadequacy: you know what's the day

Sunday, February 7, 2016

a quarter to thank your mother for,
smeared against your cheek.
chocolate? yeah, probably chocolate.

n, twenty-two

tw/ig/vsco

“I mean you ask me
not to fall in love with you
and then you go write poems
with your tongue
and draw constellations
in my freckles.”

(Clementine von Radics)

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