and then we met
one night in the city -
no more, never again -
but we did not move past
as you might believe,
failing to
touch or see or
tell the truth.
We passed through each other
and left pieces of ourselves
behind,
tokens of both love and regret.
What once was my spleen
now lives lodged in you,
exchanged with your larger one,
residing until I die inside of me.
Our left elbows?
Permanently reversed.
Parts of our lips,
and our brains -
which had long since
begun the journey -
completed the passage that night,
along with
at least one half
of each heart
(although you would deny it),
an even trade
from you to me,
and me to you.
Doomed,
and lucky enough,
to live a half
life.
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