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Another looms.  I've seen her again,
Angling unwittingly to be my latest
Obsession or muse, probably both.
Good for the poetry, bad for the spirit,
She won't be like J, who says she loves
Me still (from afar).  She'll turn out to be
Like all the others, deer in my headlights,
Flattered a little, and then irretrievably
Gone.





Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 23 times
Written on 2022-09-23 at 19:27

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