No box

I clock them living life

doing what lovers do.

Holidays that involve

walks on the beach

smiles through laughter;

that joke he told.

I see you through the peep hole

joined by all eight feet.

You eat cake

and drink tea

talk about your next festie.

There you stroll by

in the summer breeze

the in-crowd you’re in

miss popular through sin

while I sit on the outside.

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