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Waterboy
He fools with knives
Cutting the knots
Binding our souls
But who are we to say we're misunderstood?
Occupying the outskirts of the ocean
We are caged by a wall
Released by a well
And yearning to escape folly conformity
He drags me to the bottom
Silence without oxygen
Bubbles remind us we still need to breath
And I pull him to the surface
Sitting on the concrete edges of our home
We reminisce on the love
He will never truly confess
But I will always pretend to hear
Tendrils curl around his eyes when he grins
'Me gusta...' he will tease
But never finish
Que le gusta? Que le gusta?
I rant in my sleep
He spits out knives and Americano
While I lie here counting sheep
I follow him across our river
The strict black snake
The lake which he calls the dead sea
At least there we can stay afloat...
Verdad?
Lo quiero.
What's wrong with me?
poem
by
Gabrielle Fleming
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