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It’s Easy, Or It’s Not

18 Jan
Though standing behind the picture books, I saw you
that October night with a ghoulish moon,
a glimpse of who as the glass doors opened
of a voluptuous figure passing through?

The snippet of an online photo couldn't say.
Like a scratched-off lottery ticket,
the wasted unmatching don't pay.

Where did my rising hope dock from?
Or you, another narcotic chemistry?
The awkward moment wafted away
when the lips fit a stellar time

your eyes outshone the need for deducing
setting an old salt sailor at ease
to tease.
 
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Posted by on January 18, 2022 in Poetry

 

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