Benjamin K Duncan
I pour tears over keyboard.
in a waltz, with death.
in a 3/4 metre
waiting for us to wrong step
abstruse in any era
incongruent with time.
Your face, in photos,
never capturing your smile.
I laugh, hoping;
I don't cry.
smile and tears won't appear.
always a joke,
Even in repose nothing is different,
dismissing every chance to change.
nocturnes more than any other,
truthful; of sadness.
Life is rarely bliss,
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