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Eyes spying secrets,
she laughs
to herself under
her breath.

What a dramatic,
sensitive man.
Always fighting himself,
stuck on himself,

playing games,
aimed at nothing less
than wasting away.

Such a shame.

So many
things he could see
if he only pulled
his head out that hole,
took a peek
just beyond the cheeks.

All that could be.

Aching for change,
he had pushed her away,
fearing a coattail ride
to the end of the line.

She closed the book,
put it on the shelf,
vowing: never again.

He was the noose,
she cut the line.
Better to fall than
to swing for all time…


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