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Mold
There's a kind of love and care a person takes
When their favorite food molds
Tenderly carving every spore off of its flesh
But you're not my favorite food
Because you're a person
And maybe you're my favorite person of all
Not because you are the automatic easiest option
But because you would never carve away the mold on my flesh
You'd accept it
Maybe even admire the gray
Covering the purple of my bruised heart
And I would admire yours.
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Ive been writing for three years. I wrote this piece about my love for my best friend.