A Broken Vow

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Until Death do us part.
Heard that phrase again today.
And realised its meaning,
My marriage was a lie.
No rite, no phrase, no conscious thought,
Can describe that skipped heart beat,
On knowing there would be no other.
That beat to be saved for my last dying breath,
Before we meet beneath the sod.
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My name is Liam Robertson. I live with my four children in the village of Rostrevor. I had a wife, Niamh, but she died not that long ago. Most days you will find me writing code to feed my family. Most nights I write prose and poetry to prick and prod that ragged tear loss leaves behind.
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