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Absence Of Anything Special

Truth can be held in a bottle and brought out
For weddings and charities like some old
Piece of lace curtain from Aunt Edna's old
Box of dried parchment, pieces of a life of
A girl that disappeared into a
Doughy mass of flesh, rippled and dimpled
In soft plastic crush,
Who had lips once that pressed a young
Man's heart into his throat with
Just a promise of a kiss just there,

Or there, but never, oh my, never
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