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by Joan Pond
The good old days expired
when I sat on the bed
and he said he didn’t love me
as much as I loved him.
Irrecoverable
obsolete,
I was past perfect;
incomplete without him
Once upon a time
I’d found my prince
but he turned me into something
less.
Weighed
and found wanting
I packed beggardly boxes
and left,
not wanting to lose more
than I could
afford.
Copyright © 1998 by Jane Pond, All rights reserved
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