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One Act Poem

I fell in love with her sorrows. We shared a mask that we spoke through, a mail-box for wordless hungers. Passion maimed us, even I shed tears, sensing a Puccini last act approaching. She read herself in my face. I gave her news; long-range forecasts of more disappointments to come. She phoned her mom.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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Date: 10/31/2019 8:10:00 PM
Happy Halloween. Did she really call her mom?
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Ashford Avatar
Eric Ashford
Date: 10/31/2019 8:45:00 PM
Spooky Halloween to you all so. No, I called for Witness Protection!

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry