From the outside, looking in as if a friend, the moon hung its faint light on her nude, pale, thin figure as she undressed in her Victorian ivory tower; her downcast gaze beats upon me with contempt. She dances to a love song, the song we first made love to, loud enough for me to hear. I cried all but the tear rolling down my face alone. But leaving isn’t me, and letting me go, isn’t like you.
(© 2022 AC)
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