more monroe than onassis.

more diamonds than pearls.
more starlet than wife.
more volatile than calm.
more peroxide than twinsets.

i still am having trouble, sorting fact from fiction. i dont cry and that frightens me. i can see her still, laughing in my bed. we used to sit so close together, always together. i spent so long pretending i’d forgotten, that my memories are playing tricks. like she’s just going to walk in and lay herself across my life again.


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