Ricochet, 7





How you ponder me from that place

between your eyelashes and your memories

and eyesip your tears 

like a lioness upon blades of bloodened elephant grass

within a distant, primeval savannah

as the other lover knocks at the door

again, again now.


I raise my glass, take it with one gulp;

see, I could never compare with her beauty.


Perhaps you wonder 

if you have. 


See, how the smirk of the ... her car

blocks the flowers we love from our view.


















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DannyBeatty
Poetry
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writing DannyBeatty
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