Even you’re not sweet in the way I want you,
excuses, cents and cigarettes
like a pinch here and a pinch there, being that that’s the way
and it leaves and it empties and it hollows.
Take me a teaspoon, whole
as an attempt to thin down.
I’ll take and taste the whole of you
all alone, the length of my tongue.
Once, I actually tried to write
and it tried to be a poem
and it tried to be about you,
but it ended up like always,
being just about me.
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