“It only takes three to love,”
she told me that dark night
she told me that dark night
Long ago, aching to love
Herself as much
As we did each other,
Not quite able to believe it
When she does, or to
Convince anybody else
It might be real,
Love like gusts of wind
Rising and falling
Never touching
The same place
Or the same way twice
But always leaving
A little chill
When it kisses you
always making you think
love is often
a dinner plate
meant for one
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