how many hours did I spend editing and editing this poem that never existed until now.

I have a sweat stained tiny paper in my pocket with the perpetual universal ecstasy of a new love

i want to be a fearless poet beyond exciting beyond desires of hip coolness edgy narratives

i should know better than attempts to edit and narrate a poem that doesn’t exist.

i lost hours of live now uncensored poets just because i was rearranging the details of a different poem

so i leave now onto other nows until the hot wet poem fragments in my pockets

maybe i’ll fold it into an envelope a return label.

(or miss hundreds of nows editing and editing

a love poem after just a shadow of a hot queer

underage looking princess who stole

this eternally editing heart

 

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