no
more love poems
they don't make sense
anymore they go
nowhere the bridge
is out the water
too fast to swim
and I know what would
happen if I jumped
in again
and I wonder what
I would write about
instead there is
nothing that comes
in second
you were like that too
all the others
vanished even from
memory as though
they'd never been
or at best never
mattered
no more love poems
the old ones too sad
even to read now the new
ones bite the tongue
like a bad cigar
it would be better
not to save
any of them
better just to
let them go
watch them rise
as smoke rises in a
still room
to a level plane
then cooling
slowly descend
as dust
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