One fell swoop


and in one swoop they fell away. in unplanned chunks, like amputations. over what seems like days there is a distance that grows between doors, between texts, between what used to be and what is.

either ways, in the end, everything is always okay. even when alone, everything is just…a four-lettered word. Even if the letters spell out f-i-n-e.

(i rather they stayed.)

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