You do not know the words in my heart
but I do, and I am not
impressed.

I never was very careful, I guess, not even after —
— him —
You know, that one, there couldn’t be any —
(I suppose there were many stars that lit my soul,
though perhaps none as cleanly or
as devastating.)

Still, I manage to find the way
to respect, admiration, and a few stolen moments
in my head I’d be ashamed
to describe.

I’d rather say, you know, but we have both chosen
to pretend, because a thought is not dangerous yet
and pining is always
a good pastime.

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