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Mar 2017
Time was getting away.
Time was traveling through space.
Time was balling into wax
Of ear dirt in the mind.
At the break
Neck,
It warped the world.
Interstellar.
Intergalactic.
Interloper.
Break neck into your arms.
Kisses, a candy of crushes,
Wrapped in coated yesterdays.
You can’t mean that,
That you are gone,
And I am here?
What means you to hit the high road,
Alone.
It cannot be.
It must not be.
It was the scene
Cut, and deleted like the control v
It was.
Defeated and deflated
On wings of storied lightning bolts,
Storied in minds of
Men.
Lock the door
To the heart.
Why try again.
The pain the pain
So saddled in gore.
Glory to all.
The goodnight, he said.
The Good night, he said.
The good Night, he said.
In finalized democracy,
He took in his own hand,
Decide what was right.
It’s a collaboration,
Not a solo project.
Correct the situation,
Correlate the situation.
She tires and wearies,
And bids, him
Fare
Thee
Well
Farewell, fare well.
A near month of sorrow,
Drawn out,
Of fear of confrontation
With an analytical
Destroyer of resolve,
Seducer of good intentions,
Hot lips of caresses.
Your work is done here,
These aren’t the droids
You seek,
And care on into the night,
In passion and in fright.
Fear of the leaving.
Fear of the staying.
Fear of the ground leaves
Buried deep in the soil.
The fresh smell of the rain,
Into dirt.
He’s still,

Gone.
Deborah T Johnson
Written by
Deborah T Johnson  Raleigh, NC
(Raleigh, NC)   
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