a year-leaf clover

I know what she'll smell like. You and Peanut and clean sheets, newly rented movies and peeling stickers off of fruits. Bad food and old guitar strings and open windows. A little bit of technology, nothing fancy. Sex juices. Nothing fancy.

Sometimes I can go a day or two without thinking of you, at least conciously. It's amazing progress for the year that it's almost been. I think I'll throw myself a secret little party in May for surviving what I told myself I wouldn't so many times.

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