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On the front porch, she sat,
Day and night she tried to forget,
Love that lasted for only a bit,
Months she waited for a single kiss.

She had a type of face,
A face that belonged in victorian paintings,
Eyes filled with pride and strength,
It held so much courage yet so much pain.

Memories and thoughts graced her mind,
Like a broken record on hold; stuck in time.
They would gaze upon the constellations,
Her heart now a constellation of affliction.

Now as she looked above,
Tiny cluster of stars,
enveloping the vault of heaven.
A veil of broken glass, just like her existence.

As she gave the sky a fleeting glance,
One certain star gleamed through the dark,
And she knew it was the eyes of her lover,
Now fighting a war among the stars.

— The End —