First and foremost,
I am not sad.
I may have written things that seemed otherwise,
but I am not sad.
I am not sad.
I may have written things that seemed otherwise,
but I am not sad.
And because I am not feeling under the weather,
I don't know how to churn out poems
that feel like a thousand knives piercing through your skin
when I have none.
I can't bring myself to cater to the ones
who have just lost their soulmates
because mine has yet to come.
and I don't know how to leave out the dirty truth
that love isn't the only reason to be intimate with another
as I know
I have done.
I have done.
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