by on October 5, 2023 :: 0 comments

Her gaze searches crowd,
finds him, drops shy — town picnic,
pre-fireworks sky. He’s the lover now,
not me
, I surmise, somehow endure
the technicolored night
. She doesn’t see
me see hot memories rise
bring brightness to her eyes.
Love lasts seven years,
then expires
, she said back then,
confession punctuated by fiery kiss.
I believed myself to have undone
any denouement, doused finale,
extinguished the inevitable end.
Only to augur it yet again.

editors note:

Before you knew enough to know better. – mh clay

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