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She wrote heartfelt poems about the smallest things, like birds, bees, and dandelions. If not for her words, I’d rarely think of those things at all.”
My mission to become Emily Dickinson had failed on several fronts, but the more disturbing truth was that, for a long while, I’d made a terrible Emma Rini too.
I felt honored that he’d shared such personal parts of himself with me. And I was doing my best not to fall in love with him for it—and all the other reasons he gave me every time we were together.