and with that, one word, he was
gone. leaving me barren of fruit,
fossilized and cold. like usual :
he checked in, saw the plants growth,
checked temperature and germination


tantalized and teased. he can do that you know.
with a winsome smile, glasses on nose, tipped
real low, like he's looking right through you -
with that love me, sexy grin. always, he catches
my breath, throws in the trowel, turns heel to toe
and calmly


away with my soul, detached and torn, like a solitary
rose, pruned to close and left wilted then clipped
in rootless resignation ....

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