Frieda
Hart
Salt, sultry sweet, soft cold clammy skin hot tears to meet.
\... -. /..\ .-.../
Grasping for allures that refused to last,
Yearning for the past.
Pale white blooms to red, flooded by angry seas that spread.
\../ \../
flee to be free
from the sting and burn
and a stuttering gasp that spurns
[
[
No
Longer
Beloved.
]
Tschüss
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