Slip into sheets under the same
roof but we eat in separate rooms
pass each other like ghosts in
the hall whispering
familiar phrases but
sit divided by other walls
just down the hall
while we feast on meals
and I can’t help but question
the the meaning in we
much less the words
spoken in passing
The clock ticks for me but
does not draw you in
the tears on my face
the words of my lips
the sound of my voice
the we in me is
sitting in
a separate room
working on separate things
under a separate set of rules
and the me in we
wonders why
this formula is not just you
and not just I



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