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Miss Match

First he scoffed, then he raged, then he got drunk.
This lead to a quiet, almost silent, day of meditation
And penitent prayer. He recited the “Never, never again…”
Over and over into the cool porcelain and still waters,
Flushing when expedient.

With his last prayer said, he thought of the lady, and almost began again.
Then he grew calmer, and, as if hearing his moods, she came to him.
Sleep didn’t come easily, and when he slept, he dreamed of her.
She held his heart in her hand, like a bird, and when she stroked it,
He could barely hear himself above the pleasure.

He woke and she was still there. “I will never be rid of you!” he pouted.
Her forehead didn’t wrinkle, but her left eyebrow arched ,
“If my husband is intemperate a thousand times, I will come to him.”
She said, and he felt a cold cloth touch his forehead.
His hand flew and caught her wrist.

Then her eyes flared and, with a movement faster than thought
Her fingers closed over his heart.
Pain ran out between them, red as an hourglass.
He could not hear her until she whispered,
“You will never be rid of me!”

Paul Godfrey

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The following comments are for "Miss Match"
by SamPark

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