We sit like scissors on a patch of fray,
Cutting through to the honesty.
You're the only one who could promise me
That intimate blows of stitches to stomach,
Not kisses mixed with tonic water,
Could never clench so hard
As to break my certainty.
In every resonant frequency,
The absurdity is worried away
From the words stirred into all that you sang.
The background breaks in,
A shaking earthquake, hands to peace.
Sweet seismic lullaby, swing me to sleep.
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