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  John Cornwall
   
     
Last Night
 
Last night your mouth on mine was counterfeit,
Losing its meaning along the way.
 
And in this morning's shadows the bed
Holds shape but nothing else. Perhaps,
 
Perhaps there could be reason, perhaps
There could be cause, or maybe you have
 
Simply lost the interest of love I had thought
We shared.  Whatever happens now my smile
 
Cannot be the same, the way in which I fold the patterns
Of my life will not be the same,
 
Your mouth last night on mine counterfeit,
Watching the blooms of disengagement follow
 
The patterns of stars that come
In the night's sky that have nothing to do
 
With us at all, save colour in misgivings,
Like the tragedy that smiles at the misery
 
One simple action can unfold, your mouth,
Last night, on mine, counterfeit.

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