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Fast forwarding to my future
Thinking of you in it is futile
Icy coldness glitters within you
Your touch leaves me wanting cover.
Nothing fills your wandering eyes
Or your esurient, feral soul
Your microlithic heart, sharp,
Cuts out all hope of love forever.
No more breath will be wasted
Exalting you to my chagrin.
I will go on to my tomorrow
Free from you, the great deceiver.
©19 September 2016 Suzanne G. McClendon