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b for short
Poems
May 2016
going bald
I remember lying naked in each other’s arms;
smirking in jest that you’d best tread lightly—
one day, you may just get sick of my company.
Then, suddenly, one day came.
Now, I trace
those tread lines left behind
and yearn to be the traveler
instead of the traveled;
to be free of me too.
© Bitsy Sanders, May 2016
Written by
b for short
Braavos
(Braavos)
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