things i don’t tell you

my hair dried all funny and short and i boinged a fat curl. the feel of it in my fingers – the length, the release, the spring – though different, reminded me of you. yours are the only other coils i’ve ever boinged. that makes me either incredibly happy or incredibly sad, i can’t tell which. but don’t worry, i don’t think about you too much.

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you knew too

I hold you in my hands
  (but something about the shape)
I hold with all my might
  (it doesn’t fit, it isn’t right)

Mine because I hold
Want because I have
I try to raise you up but the weight
it’s not enough and far too much
  (but mine, but want)

I hold you in my hands
but they know
and they can’t.