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by
Mackenzi Lee
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March 3 - March 3, 2020
his body fit against mine like we were a set of quotation marks.
“Felicity’s birthday is in March, isn’t it? Because it fell on Easter one year, and you told her Jesus would be angry at her for stealing his day.”
“You deserve a reward for all I put you through.” “You’re my reward.”
I would teach my body to regrow my heart each time I gave it to him, over and over and over again. Heart after heart after heart—every one of them his.