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We sinned together, but
when the bill came, I let
her pay.
How can I give back what I
have eaten in greed? It is
gone, gone.
How can I say thank you when
I have spit in her face? I
cannot.
Now our life together is dead;
the flowers we shared have
dried wrong.
Around the house in the
dust balls are faded past-due slips,
faint, milky dreams.
The eyes close; I am
buried with shovels full of
my own promises.