the day is dripping with longing
desire is waning
one-by-one
the colors somberly drip off the painting
leaving behind a blank canvas
like an empty soul
a dream deferred
love is put on hold
he is a rose!
but doesn’t smell as sweet
after the men have lined up and
feasted on their meat
a blank canvas is art
molded out from the genius
of the abstract painter
as the nightly reshaping of Love
is love new-formed
in the hapless arms of strangers
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