It is possible
I think
of you (and every
thing) too much.
Your looks are
a silent movie
analyzed in my mind.
Your words, the sound
track of a movie
I don't know the title
of. I rewind to each
time that felt like more
than friendship. I fast
forward to imaginations
that show more
than public transit jotted
plots. Let's make
a documentary,
interview me; I
won't lie. This poem
will be our contract.
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