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November 19, 2011
My lips melt into your skin the moment I press them against your forehead. I can't tell if the heat is from panic or tears or -- how do you delicately refer to gushy nose goo? -- but I feel like when I eventually peel them away, an elaborate seal, as if made with hot wax, will remain embedded in the flesh just above the eyebrows, forever. What will future employers, friends, lovers make of it? Or will it only be visible to you when you peer in the mirror while brushing your teeth, and to me if ever we meet again?