Loser

Cellophane wrap or sealed pack or paper bag: clutch me. Try not to drop me.

It, this, crept like damp from the doorway until there was mould along the skirting.

I consciously partook in phone calls and friendings and 56,000 FB messages.

A lie would be I was absent for it. I was absent very little of it.

And now, history book months later, all I want is that wheezing breath next to me.

Hearts suck. Seriously. I mean.

hate you

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