the way a holiday slides
past the weekend and
everyone holds their sides
to that story you tell loudly.
No one hold me like you
supporting my soul from
below, cradling the fallen
birds nest till it's in trees
Unharmed during the war.
No one speaks me like you
With taunt honesty, terse
as a tightrope with crowd
agasp even if the net will
catch us in the last minute.
No one sees me like you
just as the artist respites
his work seeing the toil,
sleepless nights, as well as
the joy everyone else sees.
No one knows me like you
the way you see my patterns
and cycles and predict my
future in ways I don't even
realize till long past time.
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