for you.
In the box underneath the bed
Painted bright red
With pasted-on photographs and babys breath
This is where everything is kept
Everything old
Everything bled
Everything safety pinned to yesterday
All the negatives and cassette tapes
All my first designs and icicles
And aching teenage poetry.
When it falls
This is where it rests
Theres a trail everywhere you went
Painted bright red...
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ps - how can being a libra be bad!?