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  • I don't write,
    write poems,

    I used to.
    write them
    a lot, now
    when I want to write about your mouth, and
    how your lips would press, and the words were held
    behind your teeth
    or, years later how
    my first taste of loukoumades
    created a sensation in my mouth that made
    my knees bend, and that when I put my fingers
    on my lips to lick them,
    I thought of you.

    thought of why I used to,
    used to write about
    the important things,
    like the shape of your mouth
    and the sensation of honey on my tongue, and
    old wishes for us.

    then I remember,
    remember how
    you wouldn't look into my eyes
    or touch me
    unless you had to, and that,
    and that, it was as if
    you were afraid.

    I don't write,
    write poems,
    anymore, because my words,
    all of them, were for you, and
    now I think I should
    keep them,
    keep them, for myself.
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