Love and Words

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ghazal #1

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The bondage of the heart 

is rarely forged

with a chain that unites two living things.


Memory shutters the eyes

making the heart seem a desert

that can contain no living things.


Ghosts rise from the sands and dust,

all that remains of the passage of living things.


One sits worrying,

contentment stained by having met such living things.


The dog that scavenges nearby

strains to be welcomed among living things.


And I, Cassandra, shall be the one,

to throw ashes on the fire,

and speak of what is done.

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decagon          poetry

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