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Organizing Over His Loss

Ponders the subtle existence
Of time and structure of objects
In the array unknown to even himself

Closing his eyes from external light
To suspend the hands of the clock
To undo what has been undone
And do what needs to be done

She wept when I told her
We need space in relation
To our former intimacy.
And she flashed me her cunt.
I won't fuck you in the ass again,
I told her.

Maybe a little while
Maybe a little while longer
As things fall into place
I hope that I find columns and rows
There remains your face

But I cannot hold on
To this disarray
As sweet as it tickles my interior fancies
And by way of dissolving
My adorations for you
I have to restrain my desires and fantasies

Comb my black hair
Shine my leather shoes
Spine erect
Brown Eyes forward
Devilish grin
Written by drunkenplaywords
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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