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Saturday, 4 February 2017

[Poem] The Rhythm of Fear

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.

Copyright  © 2017 Winepoetess

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