Twelfth Night

Pining with your sisters

in every other garden.

Laying used and violated

next to the shed.

Tinsel traces

like expensive jewellery

draped from your

denuded, coat-hanger, limbs.

Ribs of dry twigs

poke from your green dress.

Ripped and torn

by seasons greetings.

Where once your heart

beat fast and true

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