we always fall quiet on the line —
maybe that is the reason i d‘cay
for your doomed 182 day deadline, 
dull, bright scorpion eyes and chardonnay.

weak to your meek saturday touch,
i leak, but – you‘re pulling at the seams,
i see, b’neath neon light and your clutch,
alabaster skin and apple dreams.

the large tidal wave seems so small (when)
all and sundry, our calls intertwine;
and a black veil bares your white brick wall.

unsure if you could ever be mine —
maybe that is the reason we fall,
we always fall quiet on the line.
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