You had a funny way with words,
never quite saying much, but always
saying too much with every syllable
and every look you gave to accompany.
It made me dizzy, staring down
at the floor trying to figure it all
out and nothing really came clearly
when it involved you. Once,
strolling through the living
room, you said, “I think I’ll cut myself,”
and then you paused and my eyes
widened and my body
went through a series of reactions
until you finally continued,
“a piece of cake.”
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