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vanishing act
by Richard TrotterGone to leave an empty space
can't do the things I did,
nor answer calls or chase,
debts round a spiral star
gone from this acrid place,
too sweet for me to dull.
Architects can build a mask
of the person I aspire
for them, a simple task
drain out poisons and gather,
tears in a golden flask
to restore a silent heart. 04/19/2003 Posted on 03/03/2004
Copyright © 2025 Richard Trotter
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