She misplaced her.
Meant to do it,
tucked her back-of-mind,
a loose thought tendril
made neat,
the inherent opposition
of curls tamed just so.
Accidentally on purpose,
dropped her
from the moving car,
deliberately placed her
on the incorrect shelf
when she thought
no one was looking.
It happens all the time.
She stretched her thin
like silly putty,
used her tenderness to transfer
the most comical of sins,
organized all her videos
alphabetically by genre,
then folded her origami poems
into safe notebooks
in lieu of a goodbye note
written in her crabbed hand.
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