(Featured Image: Soleil is me./Flickr)

Hate her, where;

The sun doesn’t

Shine all the time

Like foreign locations

Strange situations

When eyes flit

And flutter, like

Butterflies, heat of summer.


Hate her there;

On calm of cosy,

Deathbed of doting

Where ordinary is

A coating; for

Misanthropy and mis-hoping,

And mean, Means

Just no-thing, like


Wild western woe-winds

In fall season soul-sings.


Hate her, here;

Where heart child

Does sleep, and

Cry without no-treat

In beds of

Broken dreams, like

Castles with no screams,

And queer queens with

No kings.


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