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no turning back

heartbreaking
memories
appear
during
vulnerable
moments

you,
in a
short,
silk,
olive
nightgown
combing
wet
hair,
looking
back
from
a
steam
clouded
mirror

scent
of
morning
coffee
blended
with
amorous
smells
and
impulse. . .

love. . .
oh, love!
You
Can
Be
A
deceitful
bastard-
full
Of
promise,
hope,
and
joyful
expectations,
then
never
living
up
to
your
petrifying
illusions

but
at
unmanageable
will
re-appearing
to
haunt
my
declining
memory
with
the
cruel
frank
reality

that

There is no,
no,
no-god-damned turning back!