she wants a happy
poem.
one without barbs
or thorns,
or dark clouds
looming
full of cold rain.
she wants
sunshine and
butterflies,
whimsical words
and thoughts
that bounce
along like bubbles
on the wind.
she wants another
glass of wine.
she wants a lot
of things
that she'll never
get, but why tell
her that and ruin
the moment.
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