Again and again I stumble,
over my words and deepest intentions.
You hold me steady amidst fantastic detonations.
Where do I begin?
One summer day you cartwheeled in my gardens -
a house lost now, a moment passed, impossible -
and in that moment something clicked
I waited.
Would it pass, this stomach opening?
You would have stayed up all night
and stalk through the darkest places.
Later, after a film, amidst the throng
I hardened thinking of you
and the moment passed.
What a long waiting I've had of it
and further to go.
Piece you together, so much still missing.
And what I was trying to say
again and again was lost and disappeared in all the cracks between us.
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