There are reasons for the search
for tomorrow as days on end
preserve themselves, and I sort out
what is hollow:
I learned enough from the heart
when careening with an eternal
moment and painful unrequited love
played their part.
I played the game of love so well
without fail
needing a man in love so desperately
he became a mellow shade of pale.
I have even told a false tale
racing with his heartbeat, played like
a song in a great whale.
Sailing in the rough diamond waves of
ocean brine,
with the flesh of his dreams, his
passions, his desires I remained caught
in this crowded melancholy maze of mine.
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