when love is crooked,
where can you go, when the thief
sleeps
beside you.
what reason is there to lock the doors?
she's in.
her fingerprints are everywhere.
each knife,
each gun still warm,
hidden in any
drawer.
who calls the law on a loved
one?
who blows the whistle
on the murderer who dreams
upon her pillow
next to yours?
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