she says to not give in just yet.
but i know that this just isn't good enough.
i know that i'm looking for an ocean somewhere
and i'm only collecting beads of sweat or tears
in my palms.
will we be happy, we were happy, we'll be
happy again when the stupid sky clears, when
your fictional farce of this painful distance is up,
when we're a we.
the skin over my knuckles looks like fish or
alligator scales.
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