I_love_you_fucking.
imma poet-
it describes me
not being able or allowed to say things out straight;
and a decent language
is supposed to be my tool.
well, guess what-
as your messy room told me
you did not expect my love;
among all the borders of politics
books of botanics
understandings that existence is meaningless
wet spots on the sheets
my bleached hair in your bed
(found a week after I left)
–
I love you fucking .
mrscyanide 
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