Her Prerogative
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They had fought.
He left without a word while she was sleeping.
She threw on the gown she had worn for him the night before,
pushed off the china vase and blooms he had given her.
She listened to it crash to the floor and sat on the window sill
where the bouquet and container had been.
She was alone but at least she was the only flower.
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
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