A western facade

Do we no longer see eye to eye
You and me:
Doors must exist to keep something out
Or hold someone in.

So built from guilty pleasures
One lie at a time
The curtains are drawn in
Like magic markers that could blot the lights out.

This wall, those railings, how we’d fence with
Keeping in touch
Instead we keep quiet like a western facade at night
With no shots to call at all.

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