I feel your unrehearsed pauses---
the rustle of a blue shirt in leaving
a tangy ache your lips make,
holding back collected words.
This rendezvous is a slow-fire quiver
while the ending has it's own interment;
and outside, our named tree
wrestles with an insolent night...
dew against my eyes, dry mouth
licking an estranged bite that reminds me
of your frivolity . Until whispers
become...
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