For, He

You said you could always

judge my mood

just by reading

my words. 

You would sit with

one of my books,

your head buried deep,

not speaking,

you’d come up for air

at times,

then dive straight back in,

no fear. 

I once asked you

how you could tell,

how emotion can be so

clear within art,

as subjective as ever,

you let out a small laugh

and carried on reading. 

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