this tired blue love
in a dusty stinking corner
lies orphaned,abandoned.
if it had eyes to see
it would our desertion
if it had ears to hear
it would our silence
if it had a nose to sense
it would our putrefaction
if it had a mouth to taste
it would our bitterness.
perhaps it was good after all
there was no face
to go with the name.
too much shame
is sometimes
left off
without a word
on moonless nights
in dusty stinking corners.
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