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If only life was as easy to handle as a pile of laundry. It builds up and up, but a quick load or two will shrink it back down. And then all that is left is the warm smell of lavender soap and an empty basket.   
Crispy-wet cotton sheets blowing Like sails Under an idyllic sky   She’s wrapped in her bedding barefoot on a concrete pad
I ask them to take a poem And read it Like they were the author,   Or subject, for that matter.   I say drop a lemon-scented pod into a poem And watch it dissolve,  
Hand wash these Separate With like colors Cold Hot No additives Only non-chlorine bleach Do not dry clean Dry clean with a petroleum based reagent Tumble dry Line dry Dry flat
I. when the boy drawn to priesthood kissed me, his mouth burned. with triple-layer onion skin and a crucifix tongue, he tumbled down from a cloud at 9 and snapped his legs in half.
She did it... She broke up with me My heart feels like a pit But she holds the key.
It's not what they call you, but what you answer to. Never let someone else's words define you. No one is "normal" No one is "perfect" But as long you love yourself you'll always be worth it.
  Turning and spinning Round and round We go   Losing sight of What we love Most   The water rushes Past us Over us Under us   Suddenly we are
Life is tumbling, spinning, whirling out of control like my thoughts are a tornado spun by someone else’s hands and it is put on display so others can replay the awesome tragedy for their own awful pleasure
There's a monster in my closet. I feed it everyday. I know exactly what caused it, And now it's here to stay.
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