And when I walk home
at 6:30 in the morning with a peculiar mixture
of shame and satisfaction,
in the smallest costume I've ever dared,
tasting like morning and a hint of gin,
sparkled with a stranger:
I chronicle my life differently now.
Here is the moonlight hitting the street
that you will never see. Here I am in October
and you do not know my address.
Here is a list of mouthes that I have kissed
since yours.
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