POETRY

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La Femme Qui Pleure

i dreamt you were
a picasso
and i was
a matisse.
we hung on opposite
gallery walls
of intersecting
gallery halls,
separated by
a parade of
clicking heels and
voyeur eyes.
your every angle:
stark, severe,
peering through
fragmented tears,
you begged
for my tranquility
and offered me
your madness.