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Anais Vionet Jun 2020
Trapped like Napoleon on Elba, cursing himself 300 straight nights.
There's no escape from MY desolate coast so I longingly wait nights.
The moon comes and goes on restless, disenchanted, chaste nights.
Will I be an old maid before the next dear and playful date night?
corona virus isolation poem
Vane Oct 2017
The bed is unmaid
The floor has glass all over the place
Makeup running down her face
Mirror turned the other way

The bed that we once made love on is all torn up all mess up covered in tears...
The floor that was once where we layes on is now no man zone because if you dare to enter  you might feel pain...
Erasing old pics of him make the tears fall faster
It would have been easer to beat her to death then to slowly **** her with the silence with the solitary with the memories you guys once had...

It would have been easier to put a knife behind her back then to slowly puncture her with a knife

Then to be beaten with a stick or anything on had
That would have been easier the saying good my love
I loved you now it’s time to let go

— The End —