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i n co n sis t en c y
the act of being inconsistent
there are the times that i have smiled;
memories of jubilance and elation and mirth and that
one time we pulled an all-nighter for the first time
and slept for thirteen hours afterwards
until your parents wanted her daughter back.
there are the times that i have cried;
dark pasts of abandonment and loneliness
as you brushed me off, content with your new boyfriend
as i became your number two.
there are the times i will never forget;
(dancing to broadway songs in your basement)
(disappearing for an hour and a half and leaving me alone with three acquaintances: you know i’m not good with strangers)