sweater weather

This post is part of a series called 100 Days of Poetry.

I fell in love like a wide-eyed, purple heat. I was young and wildly, completely in love. And my heart was broken. It was messy and dramatic and never closed any doors and what happened next erased everything that happened first and sometimes I get stuck there. When I see him all the unanswered questions hang in the air like fog, like an oil on canvas drying in a thunderstorm.

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