Twenty five years a teen
so much you ask of me
«would that I could»
age out of wanting you
like I did at thirteen
foreseeable routine
to covet those who’ve misaligned themselves to me
stripping me only for parts they need
that I happily part with
as if I had no value no value
no value at all.
Train’s a-coming, you know
if we won’t meet, I should board
but you stay on your side
I let thunder roll by
we stare each other down
we each mouth something but it hits the ground.
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