Between lines

He lived with a cracked girl
but didn’t notice
she was worn almost clean through
in places
(strangely, not where she was hurt,
but rather where she wanted touch)

He bounced when he walked,
whole and golden in a whistling dream
without realizing she was leaking
and afraid of the Empty

She thought she was stuck
in a circle
with incongruously sharp edges
but he could still reach her
between bouts
of mania and dysphoria

She would carry fog
if she only knew the science
but despair was forgotten
within his strong hands

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