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CHLOE poetry

My father died and someone said I think about the idea of belonging to borrowed time a lot. Heavy eyelids, concave chests. When I really mean no.

What if I want to say no? When the British boy you think you’re going to marry tells you I suppose I’m to assume I wasn’t whole to begin with But it turns out I like me whole without his half. I’m 5 when I think it’s unfair My brothers don’t have to wear shirts But I do.

Boys are mean to you when they like you But wonder why we grow Like roots into a ground