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Abandoned
You sighed...
... but none heard.
You were angry,
Met only with stares from innocent minds.
... Then you cried
In the mystique of the night,
Muffled sobs escaping to the horizon.
You longed for the company of a muscled arm,
More than sympathy from tale bearers.
You wished for a warm bed on winter’s morn—
... but there was none.
Like the runaway proverbial son,
He abandoned you for another,
Leaving in his wake four likenesses of himself.
Copyright ©
Pia Dayo
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