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Joe Workman Aug 2016
slowly
slowly are the days
          marked
one
   and one
      and one
so slowly and with no more fanfare.

     a dream
rogue and rotten
          lodged
and immovable.

the days bleed
     one into the next
          and on
               until time is not.
    
     unruly
     unworthy beginnings
   painted a needed
wanted
          unreal ending.

bottled
blasphemous the nights

where hands held
     hair and hips.

the loss
    both
grievous and expected.

— The End —