We spoke between inverted commas,
And we spoke between brackets,
Our question marks were shouting
Our exclamations were brief.

We were still in the present
We gazed along its past,
We asked about the future
Of our continuous present.

We spoke with subjective objectivity
We spoke of our credibility,
She had fifty percent and I__
I had fifty and much more.

You cannot write our story,
It is somewhere between the lines,
Our punctuation protects us,
Our love is so defined.

We were the established rule
And we were the exception,
Our theory is not so cruel
We are still making sure.