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" My father had taught me to be nice first, because you can always be mean later, but once you’ve been mean to someone, they won’t believe the nice anymore. So be nice, be nice, until it’s time to stop being nice, then destroy them. "
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" When a relationship is over, leave. Don’t continue watering a dead flower. "

It was a colder night, but our
wishbone necks held together
against the pull. And our trembling
fingertips built a home in each other’s
stomachs with tools no one taught us
how to use throughout school. Like

how to not resist ache, like
understanding how bruised ribs can
still be sore from wars fought inside of
another that we can’t control. And yearning.
Like how all I want to do is untangle each
knot inside your spine and curve you into me
until morning’s light. Like insistence. And
grit. Like how I will hold you, even if my
hands shake. How I will hold you, especially
if my hands shake. Because on the coldest

night, across oceans,
and atop fault lines:
I will love you still.