lviii.

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dear oliver,
you remind me of the ocean
with empty waves, ribbons of
torn blue flakes of the clouds sewn
together with a thinning thread of white.

you remind me of the night,
with empty stars, blinking
ever so fast to capture every
moment, not thinking about
the one in front of them.

you’re right here beside me,
and i still miss you.

quinn

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