It tasted like morning

It was the kind of hurt that would amplify when I listened soulful music, that’s how much I dug you.

I have spun in circles like office chairs on slow afternoons,
my mind entangling itself in its own grey mazey parts.
Talking ourselves in circles I have hunted down enough words to get you from A to Z with no complaints,
mapbooks ain’t got shit on my geography of your body language,
hinting directional commands to me with twisted lips and lowered lids
we tangled in competition for lead role of,

who’s got coldest shoulder and who can rebound bolder.
trace your way through my roads,

guided in hopes of street playback intermission,
memorize the turns and flips along the paths that got you here;
tomorrow they change all the roads back.

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