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Diminishing
 
The flowers he sent
by way of delivery
are dying a little bit
more each day. Petals
falling and fading fast.
 
The photograph you have
of him smiling, leaning
against the fence post,
arms crossed, is nice.
He reminds me
of somebody's brother
or neighbor or friend.
 
I know when it's him
on the phone by how
your voice softens
so much, but, heightens
in tone as though
you don't want anyone
to hear how he frightens 
you and enlightens you
at the same time.
 
I wish you could see you
like I can, from the beginning.
Before you met him
when you were still being
who you are not who he
wants you to be, now,
everything seems hidden.
 
Kind of like those flowers you're diminishing.

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