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The Poetry Bar

Missing

When you are ninety percent certain
Where she is going
She is a runaway

When your gut tells you
That was your last moment together
She is missing

What good is hope now?

There’s no fixing this.

What good is crying?

There is no release.

by Ann H. Myers

I write poetry when crying does no good.
My blog is www.thetaleisalie.com and Instagram is amrcnredcro.

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