Last Sigh
Any given flower,
Shadows the overhead,
Picked apart from its power,
Shadows my future instead,
Forever from this hour,
Till the night stars unthread.
Perfectly ripe and sour,
While my roots fail to bend,
Propensity to cower,
While connected fruits suspend,
Any angst shown outer,
Letting my life ascend.
I can still love louder,
True to how we were hemmed,
Nights spent sat in our shower,
True to us being condemned,
Isolated tower,
Built from what you had penned.
8/31/21 Last Sigh
Copyright © Dominic Faiola | Year Posted 2021
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