the only lonely lover in London
I listen to leaves
crushed loudly by loving couples
with cameras
other lovers relax by the river
lamenting their lives
together
arms around one another
obviously oblivious to the sensual splendor they experience
time tells them to traipse on
having no hurry but boundless bliss
departing leaving desolate the place they once danced
playing without pause the practically perfect life
not wondering when or where it will cease
only honoring the only other
each within reach
reaching without resistance
their rarely lonely lover
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