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Mostly, you say nothing
I talk neither
You listen
I hear
In conversation
are not our ears
You calculate
the rungs
you have to climb up
I count steps
that go down the years
You draw the image
I dwell on reflections
Real me, real you
recuperate
nursing reactions
You stare at my feet
I look down
to touch your gaze
My toes curl up
in pretension
The dialogue is relieved of us
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