A Stranger In Her Bed

THERE IS a stranger in her bed,
 She feels it in the faulty dark;
 How came she now to be this way,
   When better choices 'round her lay,
   When better choices lay?

THE BREATHING strange and scent unknown,
 The atom, molecule, or quark
 Of something other, someone else;
   Yet all alone is where she is,
   Yet all alone she is.

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Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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