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    I have thrown away
    The ramshackle of your hesitant love
    Alongside your party-hopping
    To the cistern store of yesterday

    That you are gone
    Is beyond any texture of my desire
    Beyond any sound of a violin
    Beyond the surface of your pretty face
    You will be found in the peasantry of my words
    Dutifully cleaning the dance floor of our dreams

    So, go further to the conjugations of want
    And feel the new touch of a poet
    Who revels in my eulogy
    Without the knowledge of my participation
    In fermenting a weak spot for his kind

    And to the grandiosity of a maple
    Whenever you remember, hit metal objects
    To chase away the devilish apparition of me
    And stop my return inside your heart
    Like the African folklore of new beginnings
    Not as superstition but as moving ahead.

    Eddy Ongili is Words Freak.

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