Brokenhearted Sunsets
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Death has released your soul on this Summer's Eve,
and there is nothing that I can do but grieve.
As a dying sun sets.
A trickle of tears soon morphs into a flood,
and my heart shrivels, as though drained of its blood.
As painful as it gets.
And the fabric of my life starts to unweave,
confronting what I do not wish to believe.
Chills turn into the sweats.
I have not come to grips with the pain I feel,
for I want to believe your death isn't real.
Erecting safety nets.
Slipping into dreams, that you frequently haunt,
I can cuddle with you as long as I want.
My heart has no regrets.
Without you, a scarlet sunset seems so drab,
a special moment that no longer feels fab.
Brokenhearted sunsets.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018
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