Life bestows its
Riches on the virtuous,
On bitches who flirt with us,
And which is next to us?
The dextrous?
Duplicitous?
The perpetually vexed at us?
Love destroys the
Riches that nurture us,
Its leaches alerting us
To images of textured size;
Complex enough,
Infectious love,
Insidiously sexing us.
Loss derides the last of us,
And shaking off the morning’s dust,
Really…
Nothing lasts
Beyond the end of love.
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