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Comments about victoria donnelly
Bitter Losses Are Lonely
She knew well
the manner of giving,
knew not to ask,
knew how to survive
on smiles amid the
from a childhood obligated
to some person, preacher or other
And with not a kind hand among them
she found duty bred fear in its resistance.
Love always ended like the rains
that turned her pavements black
all plimsolls and pearls
like purple undergarments
that caught on fickle winds;
wondering if they
ever noticed the off-notes
like when her legs
moved out of ...