The promises signed in spirit,
printed on the moon's pale beam
each effervescent letter
was stamped in a running stream.
Her faith proved light,
her word was broken
having sworn an oath
'twas but a token.
With her hoarse whispered prayer
it was all over,
quit a life now old to her
with just a shrug of cold white shoulder.
The story is thin and wavering,
this story often told;
the terse lips of abandonment,
the red lips that are sold.
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