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Ann Beaver
Poems
Apr 2013
Bouquet
Here, a bouquet of broken
Skyscrapers,
A pile of glass shards,
A chaotic
Entropic
Mess of a thing.
What a pity
you wasted your time
on me.
Tied with a black ribbon
Of wet tar and black candle wax,
I hand it over
You said,
"I wanted your heart."
"This is my heart."
Written by
Ann Beaver
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