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Fumble
Those echoes in this simmering mind.
Jumbled closings that never close.
Choices not made
of moments not forgotten.
Dressed down and laid bare
to myself.
I am cross at my own apprehensions.
Red is the color of love?
The door creaks
as it swings.
.
Personally, I think of love in green.
Self torment is no fun at all.
Copyright © morningglory
LOVE IS BLUE
You guys! Anyway, great writing - applies to a lot of humans. U R not alone -allets-