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Mara Sep 4
She was his ivory button down shirt
Fresh from the dry cleaners
Soft and gleaming.

And he drank red wine at dinner
Pouring it hastily
Letting it slosh and splash.

Bringing it up to his mouth
He lets it seep past his lips
Dribble down his chin.

If he stains her it’s ok
He will throw her out
And get a new shirt.
Mara Feb 2
My nail, broken,
hours of painting, wasted,
glue-ons it is then
A true story
Mara Jan 30
stars, light years away
they are long dead and gone, yet
we still see their light
my first post here, just a little haiku

— The End —