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Orange Midnight

A Sloppy Poem

By Bethany InnissPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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But it sounds like me, doesn't it?

My voice, bleached bright yellow or orange

Will still vibrate the same wont it?

I'm afraid, dear, I won't miss myself once I've wandered off again.

I can't miss you either for I've forgotten your name again.

I think it tastes a bit like whiskey.

Or maybe just feels a bit like a hangover.

But between 17 and 18 I learned it'll hurt less when someone dies if you never knew them.

I swore you were hers and hers and hers so when you left me alone, in my head, I couldn't remember you even lived there.

love poems
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