To inscribe the collected works
Of an old love how old is love
Did you think I wouldn’t know you
But someone had to preserve the old ways
Of speaking into the pleasure between us
And long-toothed silence
Had to soften dare I say it
Into the hands of distance
The love for which we live
And lived daily until
We knew why we lived
So we could continue to live
Into that new pronoun
That holds us both and all
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