My own private mea culpa….

My own private mea culpa
in an elevator of disinterment
drowning the sentiments in
lace walking through my fingertips
in an after shock
the town has surrendered the benefactors
of chance
swaying to the mirroring movement
like a lucid fantasy
shining the truth in on me –
a woman in the most
fashioned sensibility
has found her own
sweet-tasting synchronicity…

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