Zywa Misunderstanding in two

We tore our misunderstanding
in two abrasive stories

     flakes of sour air

kept our own half
just like Saint Martin
but the other way around

     between us: the shredder

we just took our right with us
it was so much work to do it away

     up to three pieces at a time

rather we armed ourselves
under the skin, the gloss
shone through it

     do not touch me

Poem 98
Amsterdam, 2007-12-06

Collection: Moons 
Keyword: Goodbye: choice 
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