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sitting here in bed
cuddling his t shirt
breathe deep
wishing it was him
wishing that we were married
wishing that i didn’t have all this weight of
the emotions,
like carrying the weight of marriage without the release of sex,
remembering winter and how he’d let me
have his hoodies and how i’d
put off washing them because they smell like him and
they’d keep me kind of warm but they’re not him
it’s not the same
it’s not the same
i wish.