Poetry: The Probability and Irony of Stevie Nicks Dying Via Landslide

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It’s Edward and Kim and Jim.

“Hold me.” She said.

“I can’t.” He said.

“I can’t.” He said.

“I can’t.” He said.

She thought he might.

And she loves him better when it snows.

It reminds her of devotion and blood.

And as to the things that will eventually blow,

“Winona forever” makes Johnny mad.

She’s still beautiful but wrinkled and puzzled.

She’s waiting and wanting and repenting

Yesterday she was nineteen

Today she hopes she is.

She hopes she is.

She hopes she is.

I woke up sad one time in the middle of the night. I came up with this.

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