Caring

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About her.
The last little bit of juice squeezed
from the pulp in my heart
saying that-

All the poets through the ages tried
and all of them failed to find her.
What they captured once was lost
in their words and mine too.

I am no different except my use
of concrete instead of flowers.
techno beats instead of meter

A word of advice would be
not to go looking for her.
She is a myth of conquest,
whispery words on her breath