there are things
left
over from every love gone wrong.
every infatuation
or affection
has some mark, some touch
stone
left behind.
to keep
and wallow in the grief,
or smile
at the joy
is a fine balance.
to toss, or save
so much that will disappear
in time, then
turn to dust
anyway makes for a long
hard night.
Friday, January 26, 2018
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