Her loss is my loss, so I do not cry over it the way he does,
he having heard about it late, an unexpected passing, shaking him to his roots,
no forewarning, just the sad news he gets second hand, not even from her lips,
he attributes this sudden change of Fortune to those who refuse to pay her what
she was worth, unaware of the Dynamics that haunt her, the trail of tears she leaves
behind with each shaky footfall, he needs to believe what is easiest to believe,
to accept and to avoid the deceit behind it, the gray haired man telling her to
do the right thing when nobody knows exactly what anybody means by right, he
assuming she needed to go in order to feed better, someone giving her what he thinks
she deservers, thinking she is worth much, much more, his tears dripping
through the telephone with the sound of his voice telling me she's leaving,
when I already know
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