Imagine the world turned upside down

and of course you didn’t fall

because gravity works, after all.

 

And imagine the fight you just had

was all in your head and nothing more

yet, you know it’s a conflict you cannot ignore.

 

Imagine the…

 

Hold on.

 

Fuck the poem,

the words and

the rhyme.

 

All that’s left

are two chairs.

 

Two.

 

And their table.

 

Crumbs on the rug

from a meal

we once made.

 

And I sit here

imagining,

not quite knowing

anything but

what is

right in front

of

or just

behind

you and me.

 

 

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