The Bookenders

It was hard enough on him
To get those stars to dim
On wishes thrown up at whim

She had to come sighing in
With all those worries of sin
Held beneath a tight-lipped grin

Before the burning-between-them sighs
And the morning-after-cussing cries
They were bookended by romantic lies

An almost moon leaning left
A winking sun reclining right
Holding up a remote planet of regret

 

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