I think you are pretty

she laughed at me
when i told her that.
maybe they all told her
that, but i’m not them.
so i told her again.
this time,
she didn’t laugh.

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Note the breadth

thud, thud, thud
the note pound my senses.
it reads, thinking felt.
the spaces between
reach towards one another
only to have their grasp
thwarted upon reflection.
pronounced initials
of first impressions,
whose brevity transfigures
misinterpretation,
decays under analysis.
living contrition assumed
when death is.