because it would hurt me so
i hope i do not end up among your decrepit shoes who once owned
the glow in your eyes
or the flowers of my written effort
that eventually find themselves in some forgotten corner in your house
may you acquire the sense it takes
to hold my heart well above
the dust collecting beneath your bed and sticking to your window pane
i can only shut my eyes and wish like hell that like you look at your pot before you flush, you would do the same and find me before you throw your garbage out
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