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Pretense
 

After 24 hours, I thought I knew you well.
After 24 days, it was love; I could tell.
After 24 weeks, your love seemed to pale.
After 24 months, it became a bit stale.
Yet, after you were gone, I spent some time in Hell.
For when you walked that aisle, you’d more than just one veil.
 


    © 1999  Ron W Hamilton