Love is Lonely

The Show is Over

The Show is Over
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The tale of us is at an end
and now all that is left
is a sad, slow denouement,
the dance of love bereft.
All the crises have been resolved;
the plot, once thick, has thinned.
Our sets dismantled, stage empty,
because we’ve reached the end.
Our love was but a fantasy
of rainbows and moonbeams;
a dream rent by reality:
love’s seldom what it seems.
The curtain on our play has closed,
now we play other parts:
picking up the bits and pieces
left of our shattered hearts.