courteous
break-up of
company makes

my third eye
jealous-it pulses
with desire to be

made love to;
licked with lust
and let's make nice

to everything i
cannot see but
touch for spite

a sense for a sense,
i'll take you anyday,
(twice on sunday)

you wrote those words
in fingerpaint on my
heart-worst of all

is the mantra you make
out of recanting-
and reinforce it with

predictable disappearances
because it is easy-so
easy. to run from me.

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