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March 5, 2015
Maybe the garbage song came to me because I was driving up a road filled with landfills on both sides. Plates of glass fell from the top of semi trucks. Footprints made in the snow were accentuated by the sound of punctured, hollow frost. His bedroom was blue, and afterward he remained unattainable, thinking nothing of it. Smiling, kissing me at the foot of the stairs. Pretending there was some type of connection when there was none. I wanted there to be something, but couldn't grasp the edges of the facade. So I gave myself to him, sensing a sadness.