Drips

Drips

My eyes betray me
Leaking
Even as my lips
Curl in a smile
A drop along my
Cheek
For losses minor compared to
Death
Another slides
Along the edge
Wandering
No buckets to catch
The indescribable
I make you laugh
the clown in me
sees the irony.

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Published on August 04, 2022 09:00
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Abbe's Notes

Abbe Rolnick
Quick morning writes that begin before the sun rises and while my partner sleeps.
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