Life Outside

Of course I have a life outside you;
It’s called waiting to get back in.
It’s called tossing in bed, a movie or two,
It’s called “hours,” though years they seem.

It’s called, “Will you laugh if I say that,”
It’s called, “What will you say if you see this.”
It’s called “Should I sleep first, ’til you come back,”
It’s called “I’ll just wait up, so I won’t miss.”

It’s called remembering– the time before you,
It’s called reliving my sweet solitude.
It’s called thinking what I wish to tell you,
It’s called writing, in lieu of this ineptitude.

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