Broken

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Love
will always be a broken thing.
You
will always be a broken thing,
and so will I.

But here we are
holding hands
at such a distance,
and you speak with words
that feel like honey
and home
and home.

I want you
with every bone
and every moment
that upholds me.
A want that knows
exactly where it goes.
How strange and lovely.
If only I could know
the fullness of
how strange
and lovely
you are.

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