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it’s a habit i mean to sit on a row of neighboring desks knees lightly touching eyes staring up and down sometimes sideways hands scribbling on what was once a blank paper i’m listening yes i know long sighs means weariness a cup of cold watery coffee cannot help my dear you need less carelessness and a cup of strong coffee quite often actually i’d stare at your feet and then at my shaky ones and wonder whether yours are accustomed to haste up and down the stairs that you don’t mind them being brutal on your knees but well i do sure i don’t love many things but i’ve cherished little treasures and drank too many cups of strong coffee thus in this moment i am unstoppable i find myself watching a little movie in my head perhaps the one about a new life being understood feels like falling off a cliff since i’m more used to fallouts than being perceived but now i am more understood than ever if you ask me it feels like getting mauled to a pulp over and over again don’t worry i’ll forget about morbid things once i’ve collected pieces of your shoulders and be carried away in the silly remarks exchanged over persimmon slices pie crusts and pastry flakes the subtle things between oily lips dirty fingers and waffle crumbs—perhaps i miss the crinkle of the convenience store snack you called breakfast yes of course even amidst ugly circumstances i always have time for fancy little cakes and delectable cups of flower tea with you dear i learn that we’d have long pauses yet i never asked if you’re okay with silence surprisingly i’m not angry when it rains anymore i have company and cards in hand when you caress my hand i trail through the tips of your fingers then somehow thunder doesn’t seem so infuriating anymore i liked that we’d say hello to cats and rub their bellies during breaks and admit we got slightly attached on the way home along the lengthy walks and the idea of detachment don’t get me wrong i still detest rain and from time to time frustrated with how constraining love is but the sound of ice tinkling in our sweaty cups distracts me since i’ve always liked my drinks cold and sweet sometimes fizzy with a dash of companionship i dare to say i like all of you and i like well air-conditioned rooms and that i do listen to the unfinished sentences uttered during the time our noses were buried under stacks of paper some days i feel as if i don’t exist yet i recall figures with light footsteps flashing and disappearing by rows of tall bookshelves sometimes i don’t process words sometimes you found me when i was just about to cross my legs shut my eyes and be swallowed in the sensation of finally belonging somewhere yes my bones ache and my teeth chatter and i would like for everything to stay still but i know when i blink the bodies get carried away in hazy rolls of smoke i wish that things could end in a thousand different ways since i have been robbed by merciless seasons and they left me with dusty rooms and a head full of cobwebs i counted the marks left on me and the alterations etched to carry fragments of you upon myself i loathe to repent but oddly not for you my dears not after you took a shape i couldn’t possibly forget—did i perhaps made you up in my mind? i say you shouldn’t lift your anchors yet since i plan to deliver warm knitted socks this friday and comment on your freshly hanged laundry so we can be together very very soon


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