3 of Swords… distorted feelings…

I just stumbled across an old poem that my husband wrote…   ‘Twas melancholy, drew the poet near, And through the misted window (long since blocked, should muse attempt escape) Spied a lonely artisan, entombed in damp salon. Walls that once hung red with lust, Now leaned in, heavy with canvasses of misery and despair… […]

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