You know who we are.
We share the same yellow bandages.
We hold each other's hand.
We drink from the same cloudy cup.
We piss, bright as a sunset, into the same tin.
We each take a greying shoe,
one the right, the other the left.
A long time ago, in a distant galaxy
we were the same person,
neat hair parted down the middle,
unafraid of the others,
as happy as a blackbird on a spire.
But people split up
and now we are two,
certain of both sides,
watching both doors,
keeping the chair warm for each other,
never alone,
taking turns to check the weather,
sharing envelops,
accepting the apology of the other,
fighting over the same heart,
splitting the bill,
finishing each other's sentences,
watching both doors.
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