what would you say
if i could imagine the first trout
you ever help me catch
the way we break my spirit
by cooking it perfectly
and take each other to bed
our love lit only by the fire
our hands entwined as only lovers can
a future memory
stretched thin across our borders
as creases settle at the corners of our eyes;
yours first, of course
but you do not realize
it is only from laughing
at symbolic trout
and questions never asked.
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