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The small obsession grows
into a coincidence at first.
The other woman hardly seems there
for but a brief second.

Of a feel, a taste soon fading
in the curtain lines hanging,
she notices how quietly,
he dresses.

Seated upright on the bed
with his back to her face.
She waits for him,
to turn his cheek and connect.

But his eyes are drawn,
away from her.
Because his heart is still,
caught in the cloth of unrequited love.