these words can never mean to you
what they might mean to me
and tomorrow they'll not mean to me
what they may have meant today
but it hardly matters
as long as they grow wings and
find a place to hang their hat
and we remain on the rooftops
moth-watching
caressing the moon with our
tired pale hands and our lips slightly parted
tongue-tied
caught in the gap between
the softest sigh
and a scream
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