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February 9, 2007
i went walking in the snow.
my footprints had frozen into the ice, a glass map of where i was going.
you tried to fit your bootheels into my tread, but failed. you put your gloved fist up against my handprint on the window. you don't match me.
you tried on my clothes when i was gone;
you watched yourself in the mirror, you laid in the middle of the floor for two days. my black coat, black shoes.
you shied away from yourself; when you saw how badly you failed at fitting my bones.
i made your bed,
like i made your grave.