I’m afraid to do this again.
Fall in love with a machine. My fingers find those familiar buttons that text me to you; a thousand miles away, but available from 6am to 8pm central. Your heart is occupied by a conveniently familiar face. I expect to fall for you anyway. All I can offer are snapshots. What is it about distance that makes me feel so safe? What is it about you that always brings me back?
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Tennessee Martin
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