Now when I read these poems
a word will offer itself to my contemplation
filling me with longing for you.
Why is it we start by letting go
and end not wanting to leave?
Were we even listening?
We spent a whole day holding each other
pondering the meaning of a rose
as though the world didn't matter
expecting this to make no difference.
Would I have danced so prettily
if I hadn't known you were watching?
When will the words stop speaking
to my heart in images of you
and settle back into their everyday meanings?
For you, did they ever change?
Did I want them to?
Do I want to know?
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