i've sat here quietly weeping into my wine glass
thinking that you think i wish i had one over you
but i haven't.
any power i had was given freely in a moment i cannot finger-point
but it had something to do with
a story you told me, unwilling.
when i made that wish long ago,
long before i even knew you,
or myself
i wasn't even sure what i was aching for.
through incidents and coincidence i feel
we pry one another from our shells
white underbellies exposed
and we don't even care
if the other devours us whole.
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