After our sluggish dance on
An out of state floor,
I glide now among The remnants
Of joy and jealousy -No one to offer
My stolen moves,
No one to return to.
These moth-wings try to
Lead me to a fading flame
But my partner seeks another.
In your absence I've lost weight
And gained sleep- A foretaste of
My waiting death.
--Mike Boyle, Nov 2006
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