The Two I’s

My hands are dead,

done with drawing deeds we never did,

and my heart is hardened,

from hearing what it cannot have.

I’m saved by my sanity,

until it leaves,

through the same door she did,

then I’m helpless to myself.

She said I was intelligent,

until I was “insane”.

I’m insane enough to wait my life for her,

and intelligent enough to make it art.


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