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poetry and prose by stephen chute
Friday, December 6, 2019
not this
the breeze of her, a sigh,
an inhale,
an exhale, a sleepy grin,
the touch,
the warmth, a tender kiss,
making love.
the mirage
of it all
is what you miss, not
this.
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crossing the bridge
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scratching the itch
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A Mere Spark
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tomorrow, she says
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a woman i hardly like
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my daughter
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About Me
Stephen Chute
west springfield, virginia, United States
these are all FICTIONAL stories and characters and are in no way representative of any real experiences in my or anyone else's life. any similarities are purely coincidental, except for the dog poems.
View my complete profile
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