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A girl I am dating is reading my palm Tracing her finger Over my life line She furrows her brow
"Do you like evergreen trees?" she asks She doesn't look up and I nod "But you are deciduous," she meets my eyes
I shrug, pulling my hand back But she holds my wrist Firmly and keeps tracing I'm staring at her curiously
"You are nineteen?" it's currently January I nod again, February on the horizon "You will be nineteen for a very long time"
I don't like her reading I don't like her mysticism I break up with her later Then I meet you And I am nineteen for the rest of my life