Virtue is Red
The tower on the hill
pulses red at its tip
as I sip dead water
and chew on fingernails
The black winter sky
holds still and deep
as that red bulb blinks
so patient
never rushing
Its persistence
will not cease
It will still be there
after she leaves me
It will be there long after
and she may think of it
as she paints her toe nails
that same blazing red
some dreary evening
across town
And I will resent her
for the memory she keeps
although, I should not
but it’s not really that
easy
is it?
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