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Wonderings

eris-moi:

I wonder what he sees in her
or does he see at all?

Does he admire the gilded frame
of the feckless silvered mirror
or does he see the cracks
at the faded edges of her?

Is he impassioned by the letters
that break free her claws of honeyed wisps
or is he aware that behind the words
lies a world, jaded on her lips.

Is it that in the nearest bazaar
of many a curio he came across
she struck him the strangest
and also the other bazaars were too far.

Does he truly see her,
see the smile on brittle lips,
the faint blush on her cheeks,
the muted pain in her eyes,
the confident passion in her speech?

Does he admire her spirit,
her childlike curiosity?
Does he identify with her daily struggle
with her own mediocrity?

If not then,he doesn’t truly see
all or any of her.
And so he should leave her
for counterparts better.

But letting go is a skill
she is learning still.
And so late at night
and well into dawn,
she allows the very same
questions to haunt.

I wonder what he sees in her
or does he see at all?

Quiet a nice short piece

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