tomorrow (you) are getting married
to
someone
who (is not me) i
hold
the tissues up to my face,
my
nose
facing the sick discourse (of love)
/ and infection /
fighting tears like english (moccasins)
and
indian tea
oh, you, (plus she)
pulling
brown / paper bag (honey-wishes)
over me.
that
is all.
gradually /
throats feel better.
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