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As if at separate tables through the meal,

We share our wine within our icy room.

And when I asked you how it made you feel,

I sense your tightness, but it’s much too soon.

Your words come at me quickly in a flush

That drives me from that place where I had been.

And suddenly, we’re at it–first the rush,

And then that constant hammering again.

We each see things the other cannot get,

And so we spend and evening knocking heads.

Then, when it looks like nothing can be set,

We grab our things and rush to separate beds.

And though the questions wake us through the night–

We each believe the way we think is right.

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