I want to write a found poem out of your reticence,
but I find myself holding back my love for you
because I have no pretensions about our diction
painting grandeur and magniloquence.
Our hearts both grew up in small towns,
and I was quickly overwhelmed by city life.
You chuckle at my metropolitan tastes,
but in the end, you know the boot heels
of my soul is just as worn down as yours.
There is a fight in all of us to be had.
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