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Right hook. It's me kissing your swollen lip.

I can smell the Japanese plum blossoms today. My tree hasn't bloomed, but the streets are lined with them, and they are outside where I smoke at work. They are beautiful. I wanted to take a picture, but thought better of it - they are probably her favorite flower.
I don't have a favorite any more, just a bunch of "dislikes".
But the wind is whipping everything around, and carrying the smell of other people's blossoms to me, sitting on the patio.
I haven't been this twisted since Bobby. I don't like it, I can see the future, I know how it ends. I'll never tell you what the stars said about you and I. You don't care or are too afraid to listen, my breath wasted, the whole wasted.
I still don't recognize my reflection in the window.
Is it ultimate narcissism to turn yourself on? Does it count if what I see doesn't belong to me in my head?

4:46 p.m. - 2013-02-26

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