Hands and Jawline
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the coffee is a wonder. and while the carpet is scratchy reaching under my shirt, across my thighs, the sun mentions you, searing my arm. “start over”. it is a magic trick, this wrapping of me, tight, dripping. “don’t try to come back in 5 years”. you know I have run out of things to give you. I have emptied my pockets, ran up the cards and now I am pouring another cup. a second for you, too. if only the memory were more accurate, my scene stills are…