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Jan 2014
Stuck on the apple;
the map,
the watch.

Though less than worse before.

I grieve for the ghost;
the writer,
the lover.

Though never this nor that.
Over it and over again,

Throw out the hope;
the pity,
the spite.

Though they won’t stop growing.
For this reason I am sure,
I know little of love.
L Scott
Written by
L Scott  Cedarville, OH
(Cedarville, OH)   
327
 
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