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(Inspired by a line in a poem that I can't remember)

words have no meaning anymore.

they should be rationed -
luxuries at wartime, like
chocolates or pearls or
steel.

i would save mine up

hide them away behind
my eyes so that
people
couldn't steal them.

lock them up with an
i-don't-need-to-say-anything-to-you
stare.

and then at the end of the day
when the sun deflates
and sinks behind the wirestrung
livingbreathing buildings

i run home

taking the backalleys filled with
cats and dogs and trashcans and something else that
i don't want to know about

to use my words that i saved up and wrapped
in tinsel whispers
"I love you."

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