Her voice echoes throughout the room and
steals my creativity,
taking it for a quick dance.
It steals my lines and words and throws
them like skinned flesh to hot rocks
for the sun to cook,
all opened and used.

Making my words dash across my past
as if embarrassed by themselves.

She makes me want to meet myself
in the midst of a low bow,
see him give in like a gentleman, to tip his hat in confident
defeat and walk slowly out of this life.
If only I could be a witness to my own greatness here.

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