I changed while you were in Moscow,
or when you studied in Kiev,
where you met the man at the bar
who asked you if you were happy.
And I changed when you went
the deepest in the woods you've ever been,
and when you found in that antique store
something perfect for a second,
but then you'd looked at it too long.
When you returned, I was different,
waiting there on your porch.
You'd decided, somewhere in the mountains,
that I could have left if I was tired.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
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