Like a child’s face mashed up against the glass as it snows,
I suppose.
Like a dog burying all its bones,
Like the other side of the pillow,
I suppose.
Like the thorns on a rose,
Like a guy calling on all his bros,
Like the socks that warm all your toes,
I suppose.
Like an awkward wrinkle of the nose,
Like waving goodbye as someone goes,
Like hugs so hard you almost explode,
Like the lady who's Bible never seems to close,
I suppose.
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