Because I Plan on Living Forever

I won’t give up our secrets
until you’re cold
and I have stopped mourning you.
(or maybe before; how could I ever stop?)
I’ll take out a 2 page ad
in the New York Times,
and tell the world.

I know you think I mean him,
(but it’s you, it’s you, it’s always been you)
but you’re the only one
who will hear
“Fuck Off”
and know that I mean it
(full of nostalgia)
in all the best of ways.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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