She will let him go like a book,
whose cover once attracted her,
its pages once held down her gaze.
She had moved on past his breadth,
their time together flipping over
like scanned pages towards the end.
With her reading done, his laughters consumed,
will she miss nights of him laying on her breasts,
exhausted, under a lamp's glow?
She takes note of what's left
of his borrowed time.
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