Dead Love

these days 
I talk
to a woman whose
love has died

voice sodden 
with grief
she speaks of
love's young days
of battling the world
promises made
and unmade

he beats her now
yet with hopelessness
of an echo
ricocheting off stone walls
she repeats
he loves me
I love him
I really do

and I think
of edifices
raised
of rainbow bricks
expected to last
forever and more

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