he never realized how truly thin she was
whether the axons, neurons and other discombobulated brain matter need to procure such a thought had been burned up like so many 20 five dollar bills
he only smokes the good stuff.
trying to muster up something soliloquetic for the morning he knows he’s losing touch
and she reminds him every day
his arms play cosmonaut with just enough gravity to stay grounded around her
she’s cold
but not in the sense of temperature more like crooked glances
she judges him
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