I didn't care, they think.
or they didn't know.
She fingered a strand of
plastic beads and stretched
them out from her neck
and looked at them.
Why not do it yourself?
she said.
They all say that.
As if it were like
trying to decide whether
to eat Chinese or Thai
or to ride a bike or walk.
This is a blog of some poetry I wrote at different times. Mostly it's about my broken heart.
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