Why would I write about pain
When it can’t be understood,
When I can’t feel how yours feels,
And you can’t feel how mine would?
Well, no worse than memories,
Each really only one’s own,
And if there’s one thing human,
It’s sharing what can’t be shared.
Through town and holiday lights,
Through the thick immersion haze,
I blew a kiss to the one
White star visible above
Slumping bedroom window blinds.
I wanted to say
That we blew the kiss, not I,
But there is no we for me
Anymore that is not just
That compound, multi-species,
Lonely, crowded memory.
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