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Once upon a time,

In a land, by many,

Purposely ignored,

There lived a man

With a wuthered heart—

He had lived with someone

For more than thirty years,

For as many, maybe, as before

There was a Walmart.


They fought and fought

And fought some more.

They fought so long

And built such walls

That they no longer knew otherwise—

The man no longer

Believed in love.

It became merely an ideal,

Or the image of a Phantom Of The Opera

Halloween disguise.


He became so tired, so

Tired, and sleepy, so

Sleepy, as if under a spell—

He became cynical, so

Much so that his stored-up

Hatred, he could not quell.


He hated the world.

He hated most all.

He hated his someone.

He hated himself.—

Yet, he lived on with that someone

As if under a spell.

He lived on and on,

Setting love further and further

Back on the shelf.


“Who cast the spells?” he asked

What did he do?

Walmart and Target sold everything

Was a cure to be found there—

No, sadly, and no again.

There was no cure in any

Brick-and-mortar or internet store.

There was no cure, he believed,

From religion, or even Cupid.

There was no cure anywhere.


So, he resolved himself to carry on.

He resolved that there was hope in that.

He didn’t care that in a land,

By many, purposely ignored, he would

Live under the spells

“Till death did us part.”—

He believed in hope.

It was an ideal he could

Get his wuthered heart around.

He believed in hope and

Disdained Cupid’s dart.


Once upon a time

In a land, by many,

Purposely ignored,

There lived a man

With a wuthered heart—

He lived with hope,

And faith and charity.

He had lost his belief in love,

And from his someone,

He resolved not to part.

by S.A. Bort / 11 June 2016

Images from internet