Knots.

The days are drawn like a curtain’s blatant pull

Closer; where Thursdays weave its lips into Fridays
The light dances upon these acid pages
While we make love on an uptight couch
Hold each cautious word along the frozen food aisle
Perhaps I’ll understand these voices, spilled over and beneath my floorboards
Perhaps you’d understand that I’m merely being
But take this time, suspended,
Know the differences between my silences and your songs.

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