You stop talking to me; I try hard to stop loving you. The task is so difficult. You are the one who will tell me, "Girl, you need a fucking bottle of Xanax," who will hang up on my manic calls, and who will say you can't truly give two fucks because you have no soul. But you do have a soul, and when I look at you from just the right angle, I can see it sweat.
-Elissa Washuta
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