The smiles seemed sincereas I drove away.No watery eyes, except mine.And when I call at nightthere's laughter,as if it's served for dinner -not the somber meatloafand silence I remember.That's when it hits.I knew they'd survive,but I never thought they'd thrive.It's like when I learnedmy favorite song - the one we danced to at our wedding - is really about masturbation.I never k...
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Site title: Pungent Sound Journal of Pulp Poetry – Poetry and Commentary that Smells
