I couldn’t stand the silence at the dining table
And how we pretended it was normal
Like maybe then we could ignore the fact this was not something so sure
Like maybe the sadness from your absence comes solely from the memory of you
Love is a whore,
I catch myself wanting to say
While the folky guitar whistles through the radio
I tasted the intimacy and all of its secrets
“You’re not used to this, are you?”
No I guess I wasn’t
But neither were you
Gia Raquel 
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