her love
existential musings are to
me as foxes are
to rabbits yet here they are in
spite of myself i suppose it
is the fault of
the moon though why i
cannot say something about her
what is it her
downward slope her
willingness her there-ness it
is like the moon moon
light illuminating without color shadows
when shadows are not expected
her love is like that
Poetry by one trick pony
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Written on 2018-08-06 at 05:05
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