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One of an endless series of notes I find in my phone, usually scribbled while in the line for coffee or walking home at night. Copied as-is.

Sometimes I think
That being single over thirty is like tipping dominoes
People in pairs proclaiming their envy
Of cold beds and what’s nexts
And a fridge full of leftovers
While we broken-hearted heart breakers
Rebound on down the line
A knock-on school of harder knocks
Where no one ever learns.

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Writer of things. Annoyer of cats. Mother of very small dragons.

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