I see you see no puncture in me
(You're an eggshell I think, or I think you're the perfect shape of trust)
you're not misguided in that,
for one pollutes the other with all the mind's eye cares
to project onto them.
We don't need to stare around
at the barren; not when you've all the fullness there
in that heart-nest of yours, that timid lacuna
swelling with a searching that's pure and all corruption's cure.
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