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You start
speaking
in poetry when you
see her,
and that’s how I know you aren’t
in love with me anymore.
Because before she
handed you her heart
like a pulsing galaxy,
you found stars burning
through my skin
instead.

My sister laughs too loudly
when she doesn’t get the joke,
and my hands shake the most
when I want to keep them steady.
There is a dying war inside
all of us,
and I’m trying not to be a martyr for yours.
I think too much about lips
that have forgotten my taste
and lately, I have been
finding your name in every love letter
I never got back.

There are clouds in Queens
that look like forgiveness,
and once you look past all
the factory smoke,
there is a view
of the Hudson River
from the balcony
of my aunt’s Bayside
apartment.
Sometimes
it looks like the sun is
drowning in it,
and I finally understand
why you thought I was made of stars.

Because you knew you were a river
I was willing to hold my breath for,
and you knew
I wouldn’t let go until
it was already too late.

Y.Z, Return Address (via aestheticintrovert)

(Source: rustyvoices)

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