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Butch Decatoria Nov 2018
I make smiles from shattered eyes
cry December's distracting frost

move my soul with hopeful sighs
and pray our devotion is not lost.

It is the eve of renewal's glee
gave sad promises to spoon the moon

but in the haste of glass we freeze
pose with strangers who fill our room

sweat bemoans my reaching hand
your eyes are vacant with his lust

he bids the hours by each command
we smoke our feelings into dust,

this boy is weak yet worships you,
who opens darker gates to breed.

Then enters light, that stirs, confused,
my tears to scream still go unseen.

i am a wish of hearts refused,
the sound of fallen poetry...
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— The End —