how is it that my palms are able to cup so perfectly,
around a single rectangular box?when did
my fingers become so used to this cellophane wrapping?why is there so much familiarity in a pack of marlboro cigarettes
that I do not own?
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Honeypot [Poem Collection]
Poesi/I don't remember orange becoming such a melancholic color./ This is where I'll be keeping my poetry.