the thing was so softly spoken,
i couldn't hear--quite,
couldn't make out--quite,
what it was he was saying, what it was
that he so much wanted me to hear
in the grey room with the phone curled, nestled
and sweaty between my ear and shoulder
and we breathing apart, so tired of the voices and stories that we only whispered things,
soft things,
that couldn't really be heard, or even
proven to exist
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