Banished to the caves again
Love’s sour pickle satiation.
Listless leaking fountain pen
Angry at the world tonight
But mostly at my own self delusion
Seeking easy paths to make it right
Cursing at my luck once more
Flirted with but never took to bed
Fortuna - fickle lady whore
Called to mind, a Bee Gees tune
Garden-picked and hauntingly familiar
Like dish must have been with spoon
Reminiscing your touch - at midnight
Tonight however distant ever drawn
A lunar moth to your lantern light.
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