Prose

We’ve expired 
With smeared ink
A reminder
To make me think
Our life finite 
In a wink

Lifting tea
Thoughtfully
Pen in hand
Skillfully
A writer’s pose
You expressed
Dislike of prose
Dislike at best

Halting words 
From fine print
Spun inside
My eyes squint
Left unsigned
The paper rot
An intertwined
Twisted plot

I wanted to retract
I wanted to hide
The deed lay stacked
Like groom and bride 

Bleeding on a page
You dislike prose
A treasure cage
From which my hand flows

Word mined  jewels
To hasten your feet
Twin swollen soles
Took to the street

My spools strayed
You descended steps
A heart retrograde 
Where our words wept 

Revels of dismay
An abacus clone
Counting the days
Of numbers unknown

It’s what you now chose
Leaving me alone
With your dislike
Of my pretty prose

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