Tell Me This

Tell me this is how you think.

In the closed up nights
with ghosts trudging along
the pavement,
and outside,
when the street lights blinks yellow,
tell me this is how you think.

When rain seeps in through the walls,
unknitting the foundation
and uprooting the trees,
tell me this is how you think.

Tell me I am not alone
in these midnight places
locked tight by memories
made of our hot skin
and wet mouths
gasping in the dark.

Tell me your poetry is music
and your dreams are my mirror.

Tell me you have not forgotten.

Tell me this is how you think
so that I may stay tangled
in these thoughts of you.

Tell me this is always how
it’s meant to be.

~Patience

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