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I enjoy you as an old memory
More than I did when your hands were on me.

Replacing missteps
retracing intentions that formed malcontent with the best intent

If you could see you now, there’d be blushing
Be drawn, incestuously, towards this revisionist copy of yourself.

Theatrical close ups of chipped fingertips, red lip prints
heavily edited love sessions. Your perfume is different. Better.
Because I will it to be.

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