by linda m. crate
you have an assortment of roses every
color of the rainbow, and still you are not
pleased; you have every jewel and gem
that glitters pleasantly in the light and
yet it's not enough not even the world
could slake your thirst or satiate your
greed and avarice which runs with wild
and reckless abandon - he bled you a
river of him and all the love he could
give and even then you demanded more;
cruel hearted harpies like you deserve
nothing but you're the one that won his love.
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