Next to you
The score board tells it all.
By the shattering sound—
the wine glass frequency.
Then a silhouette peaks through a crack in the wall.
No I don't think I can handle here,
I said I don't think I can handle here.
Constance, dear.
I'm there to go,
by the back I'll sew—
Me up and through.
Just pull us two?
From the strings I grind
my teeth, your kind
Of place.
My chair
is next to you.
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