she speaks to me like family.
saying things she's come to know about me.
things i already know.
such as, "you are as wild as the wind."
i tell the gravedigger that my heart...and my body...belong to thieves
i am my actions.
but moreso than anything, i am words.
and they'll never be able to speak my poetry.
but she and i...we need each other like antiques need the past