Not My (Poe)try

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I share a birthday with Edgar Allan Poe. I wish I could write like him.
I shared a city with Amanda Palmer. I wish I could write like her. This bit from her latest blog has me in tears over my long lost someone who won’t speak to me.
it’s your right
to be angry.
it’s your right
to remove me.
it’s your right
to march forth and
with pride
de-tattoo me.
but it’s also my right
to embrace you, and tightly;
while you exercise loudly
your right
to not love me.
and as hate lingers thick
like a black cloud above you
pile ink upon ink
I’m still there
underneath.
i’m still there
and still love you.
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