Hey, I Love You
We exchange life,
looking for familiar technicalities,
closet agendas to laminate,
beneath our spilling words.
Each damp line,
scooped delicately from the trough,
and moistened in old teachings.
Never quite sure of which story
whets the most truth.,
which lie rubs the most salt.
The only thing between us,
that piece of air
saturated in breath,
wrung out of words that used to say,
hey, I love you.
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