waiting for your painted lips to
talk and tell him the news
you don't seem to want
to deliver
you are so young
and yet so old
so strong and yet
so weak
the way you looked right at me
gratefulness in your clear blue eyes
that's what made me cry as I left
insects are buzzing loudly
despite the bright sun
it sounds like night
on the path around the bend
your hand is so familiar now
I just want to open my heart
now
the new york times and sharpies
everything seems tidy when
covered up
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