whenever she says I had the strangest dream
I cringe and listen to my cereal get soggy
she waffles on without consent
waiting for the whoa to come
staring at the breakfast table flower
I pepper with a timely huh and occasional yeah
thinking about anything other than her
wacky night time brain fart
if she notices
it doesn't matter
an actress needs a stage
and craves an audience
I realize watching her make love
to an invisible camera
the bare walls must be easy to fill
like my silence is open to interpretation
no wonder she loves me
the who does not matter
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