I thought I understood it,
that I could grasp it.
But I didn't, not really.
Only the smudginess of it;
the pink-slippered, all-containered,
semi-precious eagerness of it,
of you,
and of me.
I didn't realize it would sometimes be more
than whole,
that the wholeness was a rather luxurious idea.
Because it's the halves that halve you in half.
I didn't know, don't
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