I do not worry over us meeting anymore
You lack the rage that you once had
to raid or invade me
You could be full of remorse
over lost time
your endless misunderstandings
I always had the morse code
to understand the signals from
sinking ships.
I lived in one.

You wear a mask when you help
and when you hurt
I give with one hand and the
other won’t know.

I am reconciled to meeting masks
You must reconcile to not find
my hands

We are not birds of the same feather
We are wounded mirrors
That we imagined in the other
Disbelieving own eyes
That said something else


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