Thank god that
our exchange of words
was very few back then.
You'd have been my
heroin heart throb story
instead of him.
I'd have saved your life
in a sacrificial ritual
of my own
for two years.
And then
you'd try to find me
in everyone else
but you'd realize
the brightest poppy flower
you ever injected
was from my heart.
Thank god that
our exchange of words
was very few back then.
Otherwise I would
press my palms
tightly over my eardrums
and pretend I couldn't hear you plea
for your one millionth chance.
(Things have a funny way of working themselves out)
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