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Home » Poetry » Issue 7 » Windstorms

Windstorms

We thought the men we married
were weak, like our fathers
something our mothers told us
and made us believe,
yet these men loved
all feet and arms in.

We didn’t hug them
We didn’t kiss them
We didn’t want to hold
their hands in public
We wanted the comfort they gave
and offered nothing in return
Becoming the windstorms
circling upon their fragile egos

They died loving
But not loved.

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