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I woke up an uncracked knuckle
Left the house late
Arrived early
My coffee shop closed
For good this time
The new tenants tried to sell me
On Reggae Dancercise
They explained they’d still have coffee,
A small conciliation.
I saw my sister, sat with her child
He ate cupcakes & distrusted me
For my gluten intolerance.
She is unimpressed with poetry
My sister, she falls for a Friday
I sit on a street in NoLita
It is wind-swept, as am I.
Wondering at this moment
When the next time I will
Touch hearts with another will be...
Not on this street
If today.
Feeling the faces
I retract.
It’s not me
You want
It's my twin.
No one knows
It, but We
At birth
& have since,
Seldom seen
Or spoken to
One another,
But, I do know
Him, & can
Tell you, it’s
He you seek
not Me,
Feel free &
Have Him,
I scarcely—
If ever—
Stand in His
Way, or
Share His
From womb  to born
Every morn
Each breath
Even on the road of death
I’m alone
Walking with broken bone

While the Summer wind blows
In this narrow lane
Love flows in my wide vein
As the Streams of heavy rain
Alone else
Only the past tense

In the dark, I hark
A distant bark
In the dream there was
A beautiful park
With a few sign of paws
Yet I couldn’t find any cause

The Streams going down
While flowing in this old town
The Stone grew worn and torn
Rolling else alone
Like my broken bone
@Musfiq us shaleheen
The problem is––
when I see your face
I see a question,
unanswerable to me
or to anyone.

Your eyes desire
this thing.
A thing physically
and yet you are
in your quest
to possess
this "thing,"
which I can tell you
does not exist.

I am not it
yet somehow I feel
you see
me as a key
to "it"
and this
melts me,
because I too
once searched
but have since

We both sought ((?))
but at different
times, now
we meet and some
comfort does lie
in knowing
people still
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