too much wine
and moonlight, music
and
kissing,
she tells me about her many
lovers.
the trail
of broken
hearts she's left behind.
how they
still love her,
and call,
and text, and write apologetic
letters
wanting to regain
her heart.
i feel my legs sinking
into a quicksand
i didn't know
was there.
i'm grasping for vines
to pull
myself out.
is it too late again?
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