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Put Out (a poem)

Mubarak_bush

we put out our fears
then roll and slip the dice
looking at each other's eyes
I chose you
you held out your hand
and maybe wait for it a moment
a smile and the resignation
broken doors
that can't quite close
guilt without contrition
unable to see past those shoulders
I follow my friend
I follow him downstairs
to his father's funeral
He raised his head
The next king marches
followed by guards
soon the train will proceed without me
but I'm not sorry my friend
I'm not sorry at all.

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