The real trick
in the root of rootedness
between two who've come
to trust too much
is forgiving the lie
they won't admit,
because
it's a touch
too small
to fit.
And you know
your imagination's been
wrong. Like never
before, eventually.
They wouldn't have gone
and done you so.
Perhaps you'll
believe again.
We'll see
But we'll never
know now. Nor will we,
love? There isn't a test
of this history book
when the winners
who've written
it
have
died.
Well,
lost.
It was all an act
of faith
we tried.
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