the last days of two together.
The heart is a corrupt stage director.
Separate separates from separate.
And in the nights the writing says: nights.
Despair that despaired of us
turned into hope.
I think that Newton too discovered
whatever he discovered in the intermission
between two pains.
What shall we learn from this about the excitement of our lives,
what shall we learn about the quiet words
surrounding it? what things
have to fall from a tree for us to learn?
It is terrible to fight
love with sleeping pills. What have we come to?
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