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When the wind swept
tides of favor’s fiery fuel
blazes a burning bouquet of bursts
into a blinding bush
of requiem romance,
we sob in stabbing solitude
at the effervescent grief
that leaves
stretch marks
on our hopes.
Giving birth
by mortal whim
to the suffering decay
in peace
makes one a parent
for love’s,
step child
desires
without
the blurring view of pride.
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