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A misty spray.
A plethora of hurt,
at evening tide,
in the sandy dirt.
Feeling raw, sore
as can be.
Why in the World,
does she argue with me?
She gets mad and
her searing is free.
She'll forget in a minute.
while it still stays with me.
A Comment by Loy
Sad and touching and beautifully written
A Comment by MFish
Thank you, Loy
