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May 2014
She sits draped in dreams
her dress made of scars
time drips, molasses slow
her torturous tormentor

She waitsΒ 
shackled to the memory of your touch
as she traces the curve of your smile
behind faded eyes.
Dust settles.

Your shadow will never arrive at her door
never again will her lips brush yours
of this she is certain
Yet wait she must....just in case.
calpurnia mockingbird
Written by
calpurnia mockingbird  Cardiff
(Cardiff)   
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