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Weirdly That Is the Last 3 Words of My Last Poem
The room glanced around me unknowingly,
a gilded fingertip held to lips,
A finished thought unshared
In the whisperness i see your dark
A simpered yes has no flaws
A life lived in the storms port
Beating the skin above the shared heart,
All my sighs are welcomed,
Faith in time i ate
like moths feeding on something lacy
Copyright ©
Christopher Quigley
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