Rp Verlaine

Clawing through shadows

of dreams  
to find her again 
real as a reflection 

water trades 
for depth when touching 
only the ephemeral. 

Her words, false 
as a pawned ring claiming 
absent ghosts in stolen 
photographs. 

I miss the outlaw 
she was before 
escaping the noose 
of excitement’s gallows, 
induced by narcotic 
entanglement. 

She is now  
like the others, 
safe.

It is her victory  
I do not begrudge,  
or misinterpret 
and nearly accept 
as I will 
her wedding invitation.

For only dreams 
bring her  
former lives to me. 
Most nights 
it’s all I see 
when my eyes, 
starved for magic, 
close without it.

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