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He
is not a constellation. You should not wish to be the cigarette
touching his lips. He will not appear through the fog and heal
your wounds. Only you can do that. So get out of bed and put on
some lipstick. Stop falling at his feet. Save
yourself.
I heard that you've been
Self-medicating in the quiet of your room,
Your sweet, suburban tomb.
And if you need a friend, I'll help you stitch up your
wounds.
I heard that you've been Having some trouble finding your place in the world. I know how much that hurts.