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  • You said
    it's funny, but I still worry with you,
    and you talked
    about bubbles. Yours
    you were certain
    you wouldn't pop.
    Couldn't pop. And mine
    inconsistent,
    gossamer-thin.

    We shared furtive words;
    they would have made my head spin
    dizzy and seasick,
    if I hadn't been watching them through a filter,
    convex, glazed.

    I don't regret a word of it.
    I do not wish I had believed you
    and I will not carve out my own tongue,
    but. In this brighter light
    it trickles out, the same way
    glycerine and soap make magic
    from water.

    You were wrong
    to call me inconsistent, and
    you were right;
    it was funny the way you worried.
    Sure enough,
    when they burst
    there was only me
    rushing back to earth.
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