i feel bland.
the tastefulness of
a heartbeat-
the plain nature of
regularity.
i feel amiss
and aloof even though
i really have nothing
to be aloof about.
or maybe
i'm just overly-
poetic and that's
my original problem.
i mean-to begin
with, i cry easily and
love too much (or
maybe it's i cry too much
and love easily; i can't
decide which yet
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