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I’m confetti of fuschia hearts.

we're never really apart <3

joey, you're barely alive.
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Pale, nervous girls with black-rimmed glasses and blunt-cut hair
lolled around on sofas riffling Penguin Classics provocatively.
For fifty bucks, I learned, you could "relate without getting close."
For a hundred, a girl would lend you her Bartok records, have dinner,
and then let you watch while she had an anxiety attack.


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