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At The Grave Of St Valentine
there's a point on the map when
doubts and desapir veer to meet
and idly parade nowhere down a
lonely slum of a one-way street
no compass charts this latitude
where time gross reality bends
for its a quarter of lifeless loss
the geography where love ends
I've drifted here so many times
its memories my endless bane
before me for I sense a reprise
I am sure...
Sunday 14th February 2021 11:16 am
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