If words be my instrument.
my wish
is to see one more tear;
feel one last sigh
as you turn the page.

Talking to myself,
I dream it all:

I watch your expression-
your lips curve
like my hips swung

when I first saw him.

I listen
as you repeat my syllables,
just like I wrote them
in my head.

I taste every sweet compliment,
like condiments you spread
over every line,
every pause, a gift,
like whispers in my ear

when it’s dark

and I’m all alone
with my doubt.



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