Monica you were nothing to Bill and Bill was nothing to you.
He was the invention of your fame.
He was your notoriety and your rising from the Dead Sea
Like someone who was more than what she was
As Bill lapped salt with his tongue
And you floated to the surface of accidental fame.
You are jumping into the papers again like a Mexican bean.
You don’t exist.
You are an extension of Clinton’s legacy.
When you are separated from him you are not there.
You want to be resurrected in Vanity Fair
But to come back you have to have first been here and
You never really existed.
You are the negative of film that was never placed
In the camera.
Hillary is running for president on the hem of your blue dress.
She won’t admit to having been involved in its manufacture.
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