A Poet's Affection
A Poet’s Affection
The phases of life, the marking of time; I lived two weeks, four months, six months before moving on. There were no long-term relationships – one night, maybe a week, perhaps two. Love was too expensive for a traveler, much too heavy to carry in a bag o r box. I put my days on paper, ending one story, another poem filed away, me moving on. There would always be another day, another pretty face,…
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