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Jan 15
There is a space for lease.
Unreciprocated pain, ceased.
Unreceived 'why's.
Now, 'goodbye's.
Betterment, sweet release.

If she is what you find.
I beg you to be kind.
She knows not what to do.
Too many identities, askew.
In her, a unique mind.

There is a place to rent.
Her heart not yet spent.
I take my leave.
Nothing to grieve.
Ships at night, sent.

I hope that there is something there.
Something left for one to care.
My fantasies, adrift.
A weight I could not lift.
Still some love to pair.

Be well.
badwords
Written by
badwords
70
   Rob Rutledge and Man
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