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i thought i saw you in august,

in the uneven smile of a slim boy with brown eyes

and a mouth puckered by a cherry chapstick. 

i thought i heard you in november, 

in the drunken giggle of a girl

too dazed to drive herself home.  

i thought i felt you in january, 

in the palm of a callused hand

that would eventually

ball into a fist. 

i thought i tasted you in april, 

on a pair of lips that turned out to be dripping

in lies 

and vodka stolen from a father’s cabinet. 

now it is july, and i think i smell you. 

only you’re in the perfume 

of the girl in this old bookstore

and you’re smiling at me. 

- i hope you’re nothing like the others.


Written By Kennedy Kelis

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