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Jennifer Weiss Dec 2015
Since I'm being melancholy
instead of doing what I should.
I'll write about all
the things I would tell you
if I still could.

You remind me of a musical.
One that I sing long after
the curtain has closed.
One full of heartbreak.
One full of everything that makes
a great show.
And you are all the characters.
The ones I love...
the ones I hate.
And I can never quite get over you,
I watch you over and over
staying up way too late.

But there are some days I don't sing your songs.
I find other melodies.
I carry on.

But one day eventually,
before too long...
maybe the show hasn't played in quite some time.
Or I have forgotten the words to a song.
I will sing of you once more.
Bathing myself in your music.
And I'm past the point of losing it
I just linger there, I guess.
Like your hand around my shoulders,
my head on your chest.

And if it feels too much,
I can always disengage.
But I wonder...sometimes...
do you even know the music
of my play?
I 'd know what to sing.
I am a cyberwoman
Delete, delete, delete.
It's true, I do remove
The too, too much.
I rearrange, and chop, and change,
I know that you will always read
The sigh between the lines,
And maybe you, too have things that you have written,
then hidden away.
Maybe, you, too, are frightened of
The neversaid, the ever left unread.
Do you delete too, otherpoets?

— The End —