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Heartbroken By Young Love --POTD
I feel your unrehearsed pauses--
the rustle of a blue shirt in leaving
a tangy ache your firm lips make,
holding back cold, collected words.
This rendezvous ... a slow-fire quiver
an ending which has it's own interment;
and outside, night wrestles with time
brittle dew against my eyes, dry mouth
licking an estranged bite that reminds me
of your frivolity . Until sighs
become hollow and stuttering
like a thirst from a weltering breakwall.
So it is with discovery,
the trails of affection are never mine
as I call you grimly,' 0 heart-breaker'
while banging shells litter on the dunes
as this heart shrinks from tangled lies:
There is still much to learn about
young passion... needles upon my chest
losing you from sight like a migrant breeze...
for a woman , fragile at eighteen.
Copyright ©
Nette Onclaud
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