“is it you?”
they pause to ask
..

and I can’t shake
the question,

but don’t respond the
way they’d
like
..

just tellin’
it true,

“what’s it to you?”

“what side do you need to show?”

“which me do you really want to know?”

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there’s still love
in death”-

you claimed upon
return
from

realm of all who know
what’s gained
by loss
..

far from land of
this reeling
spirit

who knows only
its cost.

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near as the harsh gust
piercing my
lobes,

sharp as dusk’s bite
on the ridge of
my nose,

red not from
the candy,

cold not
of your stare,

autumn’s come
calling-

its breath in
our hair.

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i smell buttered
popcorn
,

it drags me back to
movie theaters

and silences made
awkward by
hesitation

and worries that
others were
watching
..

four eyes glued
to screen.

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