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Sorely Mistaken

The simplicity of a heart devoted

Ring already binding

Tightly to the aorta 

Closing a valve to ink that noted

The very life of finding

Disconcerted in a plethora 

Small grapes that sour

Make fine wine for my saddest hour 

Drink until I no longer cower

Ask my question to find no answer 

Dance of madness all around her

Till we both smile embarrassed

And fall back on this bed

© The Sad Owl

Categories: poetry Prose

Tagged as:

The Sad Owl

I'm just here. Until I'm not.

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