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Every Woman Who Dresses Like You

Like King David’s bed,
My bed is swimming with tears,
The not seeing you down these lonely years
Of heartbreak and multiplying fears;
I’m dreaming of you, simply dreaming of you,
But these dreams are merely
A disappointing substitute.

I breathe your perfume in fashionable boutiques,
I gaze at bouquets you would have adored at floral shops,
I notice every woman who dresses like you
Of a certain age and height,
I imagine they’re you, I pray they’re you,
But it is all a mind device to console me.

I’ve been fasting in this emotional desert,
I’m losing my strength and my real essence,
I’m wasting away with such a hunger
To see the world through your eyes,
To watch your hair flirt with the sunlight,
To touch your hands in a theater or church pew,
To live my life entwined with you.

Everything is difficult now,
Sleep has flown away like a bird,
I remain awake in the pale moonlight
That has disowned me as a lover
And frowns at my presence in the night.

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