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some days i look back on my drafts,twenty-six of them messily piled,all untitled,contents swirling around me in nostalgic confusionbefore settling down in the middle of a stormteenage angst bleeding through the pagesof half-written manuscripts and abandoned poems,saved until a later datebut never finished i was looking at my drafts today. oof, i remember exactly whatContinue reading “drafts”