How is it or is it how...
do they say?,
withdrawing so rapidly,
with no delay,
from the simple moments
that punctuate my life,
a healthy, young-son,
two-beautiful girls,
and two,
not so good wives,
or were they?
I have to say,
after the hell
they continue to pay,
for my wreckless abandonment,
now in a transition stage,
don't know North from South,
East from W-yesstt!,
nor where I am going,
how has everyone I've learned to love,
left me so quickly,
and I know it will happen again,
and again,
but,
wouldn't want it any other way,
stamping my grafitti on today,
for loving so hard,
as if my heart didn't have anything left,
to say.
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