By Erica (LadyFebruary@yahoo.com)
Date: 10 July 1999

Messenger

So, she learns fast, but I don't care about chess anymore since you left. You're in Eastern Europe with Gneis and I hope you suffer your own damnation for putting your tongue in my brainstem when you kissed me.
I hope you suffer your own damnation for putting your face in my ink and then printing your nose on the insides of my wrists so you can turn it up at everything I touch.
You called a week ago while you were getting your boxes together and I sent my voice along through box after box to slip between your chess pieces. You packed it away, took off, and my pen just doesn't work the same since then.
This is an old story and I don't even cry over it anymore. This story's so old I can stand you up and imagine you at the Adam's Mark not thinking of me.
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