Depend
on me,
divest
your daily
life
of panic,
of unease,
our lateral union
pending.
Enamored
with endless remodel,
obsessively suppressing possession
(it never attained anything).
How these pockets
of lip-quiver sink
into themselves,
how desolate days meld
into waxen weeks,
counting the seconds
until you
circle back,
chalking cheeks red,
cycling through
all the best things you said.
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