Who is Hank?
He is someone I lost. I wasn’t
there when I lost him.
Only that I cried because I never
said a thousand-page monologue.
He was supposed to dry my tears
and pamper my forehead
before kissing me goodnight,
but I won’t actually sleep;
can’t! because I’ll be thinking,
while all night tossing,
how I came up with Hank,
and how ticklish could be
his mustache in my face.
Now. Who is Hank?
Taken away from me
before I can even have him.

 [photo: http://thehairdresserseyes.com/how-to-thread-yourself/]

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