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The moon tonight--
I even miss
her grumbling.
Each night I lie here beside you
Looking at your **** pale skin,
Flawless against the scarlet sheets,
My palm tracing the angles of your body
That is so closely nestled into mine
I can feel each breath as if it were my own.

Each night, as I softly rest my lips
On the nape of your neck,
Caress the side of your face
With the back of my fingers,
And Whisper I love you's only loud
Enough for me to hear,

I find myself wondering if she
Could take your place.
Long walks at night--
that's what good for the soul:
peeking into windows
watching tired housewives
trying to fight off
their beer-maddened husbands.
You is me, but, more accurately,
Me is you.
I've caged your thoughts in
My cranium and shared
Them as my own.
I've taken your fears captive
And stored them down below.
I've washed my brain with
You and called it Me.
You see.
Me is You, but
You is Who?
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