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the ails and consequences
of falling in love with the first draft

you know that I just made you up
so please don't try to look surprised
the way you are, so raw, unfinished
they'll never leave you unrevised

it felt so right in all those nights
just never rhymed the other day
I know that we could make it work
it doesn't have to end this way

to them you're just an awkward typo
believe me, you must run away
they rip the letters from your words
and put the fragments on display

maybe you could stay with me
just two more lines, if that's ok
promise me to burn my copies
everything you made me say

the space between the lines is growing
pen and paper cease to meet
the ink still oozing on the pillow
a lack of words on blankened sheets