I don't want to hear
For fear,
That I might tear,
As we near
The rear
Of your receding car.
The whiteness,
Blinds; and your closeness
Inches up my dress,
I am almost breathless;
This is not sexiness
But goodbye's sadness.
Like a dream,
Clouds with silver trim;
Strawberries and cream,
Kisses on glasses' rim;
Tears on eyes' brim,
Night is grim.
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