“Poetry is art” she said
“But I’m worried how it will come across” I told her
Looking at me detached she said sharply “Art’s not filtered”
I nodded in agreement, not to her words but to feeling her passion
fuck, she was stunning
Uncomfortable in the silence I spoke up
“What if they don’t understand what I’m trying to say”
“Poetry is yours” she said softly without looking up
“It doesn’t need to be explained Paul”
She rarely used my name
I wanted everything that she was
-scob









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