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August 13, 2010 / Gio


romance withers

if not true love

the flowers we search for

dry up

like wilted greens

in autumn sun.

love is osmosis…

moving through us

like the expectations

of fantasies

and fruitless endeavours

or virtual reality.

we hang by fingertips

to empty dreams

and wishful thinking…


like arranged marriages.


like nuclear winters in sand,

frozen forever;

but growth is captured




for the next vexing vessel

to entice us

and lead us

to another path

of romantic gymnastics.


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