For Elizabeth

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there was a time when i sat in her kitchen.

i ate cookie dough straight out of the bowl.

and She did too

i explored every topic of conversation.

and at the end of the night,

i looked down to find that there was no cookie dough left.

and She did too

 

            later that month i listened to her tears

 

                        i mixed cookie dough again

                        but this time, it was in my kitchen

                        not hers.

                        and i did not eat it straight out of the bowl

                        i didn’t eat any at all.

                        i wrote a note on lined paper

                        and tied it up with a rosey bow

                        it embraced the box

                        how I had hugged her and her tears.

 

                                    later that day, i gave her the box of untouched cookies

 

                                                now i sit alone in my own home.

                                                i eat my sadness straight out of my heart

                                                but She does not

                                                i explore every explanation I can find

                                                and throughout the night

                                                I listen to my own tears

                                                but She does not

 

                                                            I have not spoken to her since.

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