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Primrose

I have heard that you have begun

searching for what you spew

when you run off under the green of happy meadows

looking back only once, to forget.

 

There were no tears in my eyes

But from my heart, silver sparkles of wet grief

fell into the fade of your hurried steps

 

You brought me pain when you came

One that I couldn’t speak, only feel

And now you go with more

that I still cannot speak but alas, I write

 

Primrose, mine never Primrose

You have taken spring from my cheeks.

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