Day Seven

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Love like lies
Heaped in lazy masses
Absorbed by
a contrived time set
And dispersed for no one
to lay claim to…
Only their creatress.
And she shall eat the
tiny sorrows
Not politely, not refined…
Trails of their ugly mess
spiral off her mask
Pool on the greedy surface
And ravaged by the
hours tucked away.

©Y.E.S 2014

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