Friday, April 10, 2015

11/30 Polyglot

you tell me you love me
and I hear it with my entire face
feel it between my teeth
you love me
that's what you said and I believe

the language new to my tongue accepts
wants to be accepted I hang on your word
like laundry on a line clip rooted
swaying in the spring breeze

until I realize that what you 
are not saying is what I should be
listening to, how I am not a part 
of the parts that mean more than
fleeting, more than maybe one day

the fool in me recognizes the misstep
remembers doing this before
remembers how much it hurt
all the time

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