as a an apple peel
left
on the counter overnight,
going
brown,
i don't hear you
whispering on
your phone
before
sneaking out the back door,
going into town.
nor will i hear you
when you return,
your hair
a mess,
a rip
into your dancing down,
tip toeing
up the stairs,
finally home.
i'll pretend not to hear,
it's why
we get along so well now.
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