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Eulogy Of A Meaningless Flirtation
Searching the barren lot,
The bike was lone and harbored
To the iron rail, naked
And wet; the dew of morning
Had set upon it, wrecked,
Fallen to the new dawn.
Perhaps it cried that night
In want of hills and sidewalks,
Or just walking in tandem;
Ten hours can leave you mourning
For the thoughtless small routines
Employed on twilight streets.
It knew.
Tyranny spoke leagues to me,
And love was pristine propaganda,
The sterling strains that marked
The worsening weather.
Alcoves can find a way
To steer you hard to starboard
In foreign waters, toward
Where the skies have swiftly darkened;
To keep you where you're standing,
Holding the dreams that stray.
Victims to our own eyes,
We glanced and stared, unrivaled
In our solitary tryings
To give up on childhood memories;
To cast the past away,
Forgetting long goodbyes.
But I would honestly say
We'd never parted ways.
We knew.
Our broken hearts weren't worlds apart.
Our love was christening constellations,
The shooting stars that wrought
Our days together.
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