messages
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Pain,
as bright as my neon highlighters
Statements,
bolder than the sound of my voice
Colored every which way
I trace
Over every word
So none feels left out
Because I know
Oh, how I envy the ways of courtship In old Victoriana.
Its mannerisms. Its motions. Its subtlety.
The messages, hidden in plain sight
With simple gestures and sleight of hand, so much could be said,
