carrying--valiant as ants--
relics of their fallen friends.
They see me turn muddy, as I
drink me (60% water, baby)
You'd think I am called grief.
I'm keeping an eye out for you
yearning for you for when you
are already inside (my head)
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endings
1) Jeanie said something in the comments last week that I haven't been able to stop thinking about. She noted that 2025 had been a year...
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