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acts and absence of love
i’ve been thinking about the difference between gestures that feel like smoke and gestures that are mirrors. if this kind of love was offered to me, bundled in smoke and mirror, i think i’d take it.

i’ll admit i’ve been resting on my laurels. but if you like me now, you’ll love me when i really get going.
my physical body is smoke and mirrors— leftovers from a past life of hard work. two years of ordered rest, no chiseling allowed.
it’s enough for a boy to buy a ticket, but i don’t know if it’s enough to make him stay.
what if i told you i’m the person i’ll be forever, body excluded?
there are things about myself that i know will never change. i’ll always be kind. i’ll always be argumentative. i’ll always be sharp and cunning and quick to act. i’ll always be curious. i’ll always be honest. i’ll always believe the worst has already happened. i’ll try to believe the best is yet to come.
and for now, this is a vow to myself: to hang my own suit up to dry until someone else’s muscle memory does it for me
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Joy Sullivan, “Want", Instructions for Traveling West
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Tamino for Financial Time but it's just his hands ✨
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an accident by erin m. riley, 2020, wool & cotton, 82 × 100 inches
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