Finished Folds (1—7)
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3When you get shot, you don't immediately think that she won't love you because your joints won't work the same anymore. That comes to you later, when it's quiet during recovery.
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1Never able. Walk streets. Tell lies. Hide faults. Pass lights. Be blinded. Seek distractions. Need escape. Feel women. Soft, vulnerable. Hear lies. Think dreams. Walk alone. Ever.
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4I'll paint the picture of foreign horizons, the taste of new dirts lining the rim of my nose, the callouses in my skin. I'll pray that my words carry my meaning, and to him alone I
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2"Let go," it said. "Forgive yourself of holding order, keeping all the pieces. You can not keep each grain, from softening and being consumed." She stilled her hand from arranging
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3, seen in a small instant here and there as they passed through the moonlight that fell down to them through the sewer grate. Then they returned to darkness, with unknown depths.
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0but things are rarely as we expect them to be. She found herself uncomfortable, unsure. She second-guessed her decision to leave home, her family. Her friends. A lover named
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3All our fathers were evil men. Our mothers tell us so in bouts of insurmountable, tear-filled rage. Usually I freeze when I hear the clattering of dishes, but it makes me listen.