Blank Stare

I’d write you a love poem,
but the honest truth:
there’s not one in me
for you.

I thought there might
have been one, but I was
mistaken; it doesn’t belong
to anyone else, it simpl\y
does not exist, like the phone
you thought you heard ringing
but was not.

But I still have a poem for you.
There is this one, this poem
like a blank stare, mouth held
open and startled, at a person you
thought you knew but did not.

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