As surely as you leave me breathless
– you make me speechless too.
Cunning thief you are;
stealing the words right off the curl of my tongue.

I asked you why;
you said you didn’t know.
I asked you how;
you laughed and told a joke.

I stopped laughing
nine moons ago.

It is
the walls
the walls
the walls.
And me.

Je ne sais quoi?

Perhaps it would have served
us well,
to have had your first words fall on deaf ears
and my last word inked naught on skin.

Perhaps we were, you
and I,
a fait accompli of
nothingness.

I kept waiting
for your moment to arrive.
For the chugging train to announce
its next stop.
But it goes on,
blowing proud grey smoke into the wind.

Il vaut mieux faire que dire.
But
you could never be,
and I would never know.

Je ne sais quoi.

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