You give me that gulp-in-my-throat
type of heart burn,
cold mixture of distance and desire.
We've busted the seals, one-by-one.
Probably drank a small lemon tree together
salty and bitter ... and cold.
We drink the nights away
and in your eyes this soul remains old.
But I'm only beginning to wise up to your ways
For my words, chosen haphazardly, have shown me
to just shut up.
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