Strings

He is lead

Feet on the carpet

Your mind is

Out the door

He is waiting

A bridge in this silence 

You’re anticipating

His mindless

Pacing the floor

.
There were tulips

And wax drops

Like glue on the counter

He spoke first

Weak from wanting

But you had to speak louder

.
It came easily

There in the attic

Your mouth on his shoulder

His eyes to the the ceiling

Your eyes are vacant

You are wishing for static

Stained.

Corner off the feeling.

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