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Dorothy Friedrichs (1910-1978)

I ask that you withhold your frozen snot and spew no filth upon my wedding dress. Your resolutions fill me with disgust. I wonder why I kissed you even once.

Pathetically, you think it bothers me that you feel bitter, broken, lost, betrayed.  Listen here, oh Jacob, honey, dear: your plight’s beneath me, and I do not care.


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