old poem I found of mine~ I divorced him a year later
Whispers of justice hang
in the night air.
Betraying the solemn vow
of the day's heat.
How quaint that all things
~like hate~ fade with
the same certainty of
the rising sun.
Tomorrow holds the promise
of poets...fluffy happiness and gentle
peace; why do those restless
souls pine away for what can
never be? For what never was?
Joy surrounds me with
the scent of an English rose garden ... too
colorful to be a true retreat
~~carefree enough to be an accident.
A contradiction of terms, a poem.
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