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Stapled
I watched the young man
Spend seemingly hours
On his cell phone,
Pacing, leaning on
The railing,
Speaking very quietly
With that worse
Than death look,
If you’ve ever been
In love, lost love,
You know the story,
That hung out to dry
Feeling with the
Buzzards circling,
Someone else
In
her bed,
On her lips,
On her body,
Your heart blindfolded,
Stapled
To her night table,
Throbbing,
Listening to her
Cooing,
Exhaling,
Moaning
With delight.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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