• Hannah Flowers

you are the insatiable burning in my ribcage the sharp breath in and the shaky exhale you are the itch in the middle of my shoulders i can not reach far back enough to scratch you are the pollen that falls from the trees incredibly beautiful, then again suffocating you are the late night, dreary-eyed sadness the weary, unrequited lust for relief you are the book i left unfinished just as hard to write as you are to read you are two thousand miles and a cab and a flight of stairs and i am far too fatigued and i know exactly what you are though you know nothing of me

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