Moving In

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You wouldn’t know,
Would you?
You don’t ever read me,
Do you?
And then talk about
How you understand me
The way no one does,
But she would read me
Like what’s going on,
And then she would know
What’s going in
My heart and head,
You don’t even care
if I have either,
There is one in
My flesh you see,
I am more than what you think
I would be,
And she sees me more
Often than you claim
To have walked with me
On broken roads
And twisted streets.
I might fall,
But she would pick me up
To your useless scorns.
I would call you up,
But you wouldn’t know
If I had cried an hour ago,
While she was busy cupping my tears
With both her hands,
To show me how
Brilliant of my eyes
To drop these splendid pearls,
To show me how
People parch to death
Without water,
And I have left my faucet open,
How thoughtful of me!
You barely talk
And we barely don’t,
Someone has moved in
With your key,
And she’s fine by me.

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