

ForegroundFour thirty AM I am standing in my kitchen wearing my dark blue dressing gown building a time machine from assorted cutlery and a broken microwave.Foreground
I am visiting you three years ago.
I have calendars for you with notes written each day: some are highlighted orange to show you when to ignore the things I say. Others are circled blue, and on these occasions I meant every word.
I am smiling at you, already knowing the day you leave I will understand in time, despite what I say. You look at me quizzically: &


AcceptanceShe was sitting on my bed. She smiled, her teeth faint against a velveteen tongue. Youre home, she said. I sank weakly into a chair, my briefcase sliding out of my hand like a leather fish. Youre here, I replied. It was four oclock, almost dark already. The steely light pushed shadows like bionic legs up my walls, stiff marching. Traffic noise blurred beyond the windows into the rain. Theres a letter waiting. She offered it to me, an envelope growing blue with wetness. I got up slowly. She always made me feel so heavy, perhaps because her movements seemed so gAcceptance


Lock Picks and RocksWe broke into the old apartment to look for things we'd lost when moving on and moving out, across the streetLock Picks and Rocks
and sixteen cities South. I tried to take the poems from the windows but memories are more permanent than marker. Mornings seemed longer when sunrise wrote words on bare walls and bare skin, or when I traced end-rhymes and metaphors into the curve
of your hips.
These days we don't sleep.
and I couldn't find them; instead
we found furniture that spelled apathy
and wrong words on right angles, organized
and dead. They painted over &nbs
What's going on with you these days, Jen?
P.S: You gotta update this account soon, I wanna see more of your artwork!
-Ali
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Elphaba lives!!!
`n
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i'm a million different people from one day to the next.
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♫ ♪ ♫ +
4/22/07 & 4/14/09
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♫ ♪ ♫ +
4/22/07 & 4/14/09
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Your toast has been burned, and no amount of scraping will remove the black parts.
Nice portfolio yourself
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This is the wonder of devotion - I seek the torch we all must hold.
This is the mystery of the quotient - Upon us all a little rain must fall...It's just a little rain...
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