I've been writing you into poetry again.
I tell our secrets between the lines so they will know
And I won't have to bear them alone.
I paint you over verses
Sketching your rhythm as rhymes
How could you be so smooth?
We dance behind closed doors in haikus
Taking five and then going again for seven
And then finally five days of silence...
I keep adding periods to your lines
And then changing them to commas or ellipses
Or just letting them sit there
Because you never seem to end--
When will I stop writing?
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