the last time we met (I can say that now, again)...
still really a first time - for a while the last of many strings
trailing through a snow-surprised London - I noticed
your hair is long; you look like a brighter, better you...
only now I know sometimes, underneath,
we're both the same, more than we admit
it's been hard to extrapolate that for such a long -
my talents only stretching so far into intuition
before they fall off into cavities of imagined lovers, slick with...
there was a last time we met, and it seemed
we actually talked, and the world didn't burn and no one
made you take down any of your lovely walls...
the last time I enjoyed it
.
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