The other day, I wrote a poem about you. You were in it.
You are in it, beating against the words I've woven around your arms.
I want to hold you captive and make you stay with me.
And I will read your poem.
I'll eat your poem.
Breathe, sleep, live, hurt, screw, love, and say your poem out loud
with words so loud, I'll have to vomit them out by the time I am through with your poem.
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