17. palate

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you used to take after my favorite blend of coffee — strong but with an underlying touch of warmth and coziness, while i took after milk — a weak punch, an illusion of tranquility and peace. together, we were perfect. the only thing missing was the sickly-sweet sugarcoating needed to make every little lie plausible. maybe then, they would have approved. maybe you wouldn't have to fight for us any longer, but why would you, in the first place, when you didn't even give a damn about me? you're bad coffee after all — bland, watery, tasteless.

a coward.

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